Common Ground
by sweet krab whacka
Summary: ALL ABOUT TRISTAN! Tristan’s hawk flew dutifully above them, as if, forever, from this day forward, she would never allow her dearest friend to be hurt or captured again, if she could help it. ALMOST DONE
1. Tristan's Dance

Disclaimer: I do not own any King Arthur things except for the DVD and of course Tristan (laugh). I do own my characters though.

Author's Note: Okay, my last fanfics sucked but from now on, I'm going to try to make things different. When I think of better ideas and stuff, I will delete the old ones and do the better ones. This is the first of that stretch of better writing. My new King Arthur one that I hope EVERYONE thinks is better. And, I want all your honest criticism. I was a little peeved at some last time but please go for it now. It will help me.

Chapter One:

Arthur's carriage rode noisily along the road. He hated carriages. He was very troubled about something but could not figure out what it was. It was making him tired and depressed. His head drooped as he tried to get some sleep. The wheel of the unearthly contraption depressed in a hole, and his head, in annoyance, snapped up in the same fashion but did not descend again. His hand came to rest under his chin and he began to rake his mind to find this problem. It preoccupied him for so long that he did not realize that the carriage had stopped. He forced a smile to the horseman as he climbed out and walked towards the hall in which there was a gathering, a sort of party, being thrown in his honor. He tried to look happy when he entered. He looked around at all the heads of the bowed commoners and knights in the crowd and truly smiled, for he loved his people. Arthur lifted his hands into the air above his head and clapped loudly.

"Let the festivities begin!" The room was filled with joyous cheering and the band started to play and the peasants began to dance. He stood in the middle of the dance floor, everyone dancing around him. Lancelot danced by with a pretty girl in step already.

"Lancelot, I don't mean to be rude, but may I cut in?" Arthur smiled, a playful grin spreading across his face. Lancelot sighed mockingly.

"If you must!" He let the girl out of his grasp and Arthur moved in, dancing with Lancelot instead of the girl. She laughed, beating her hands together as if she hand never seen anything so amusing. Both Arthur and Lancelot broke apart, laughing and clapping each other on the back. Arthur took a deep sigh and decided that he was extremely thirsty and moved to the side to get something to quench his craving. He stood there, sipping his ale when something tugged on the hem of his purple cloak. He looked down and a young girl stood beside him, cloak still in hand. She spoke.

"Can you teach me how to dance?" She asked him bluntly. Arthur was quite surprised. He bent down on his knee to be on the same level as her tiny self.

"You do not know how to dance?" He repeated.

"No. My father never taught me." She sniffed and scratched the itch that was irritating her little nose.

"Well, that will not do. All proper young ladies must know how to dance. I will have to teach you then." He took her by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. Many looked on curiously as the little girl placed her small feet on Arthur's large ones and her hands in his. They moved slowly in the fast paced crowd.

From the other side of the room, a woman watched eagerly as these two danced. A plan already fully formed in her mind. She moved through the people and approached Arthur.

"May I cut in?" Her sweet voice sounded. Arthur looked up from the brightened and illuminated face of the child and into the beautiful eyes of an equally beautiful woman. He let go of the child's hands and she ran off to join her little friends. He observed her exquisite features. Her beautiful curly, chocolate colored hair, put up in such a way that only a few strands fell to frame her fair face. Her spectral gray eyes that bore into his own so deeply, her cheekbones, rising highly as if ennobling her to be royalty, her figure, petite and fragile, yet strong enough to show that she could take care of herself. She let him take all this in, smiling at his roaming eyes.

"My name is Morgana." She finally spoke. He could not reply back, only gaze intently. "You are Arthur, King of Britain." She answered for him. Once this introduction was out of the way, Arthur was fine, repeatedly telling her how beautiful she was. This eventually lead to him spilling his soul to her, including the fact that he now knew what was bothering him so, a wife, which he did not have, and thought she would suit well. Through all this she smiled politely, until he could bear it no longer, and they moved across the hall, toward more empty rooms.

Tristan was watching this scene unfold from his quiet and reserved corner. He did not like it. There was something odd about her that did not sit well with him. Tristan saw as they moved toward an empty room, he knew this all too well, from men that drank too much or from men who thought they were in love. Tonight happened to be the latter case. Deftly, he cut his way through the crowd to stop him.

"Arthur, wait." He hesitated, not really knowing what to say next.

"Tristan, what is it?" He tried to sound polite but could not hide the annoyance in his voice.

"You should not be with this woman tonight." He stated simply.

"Why not. It is my business, I think I will do as I please." Arthur sounded baffled that his friend would do this.

"She is not right. There is something about her that is not right. She is bad." Tristan stared at her with his unfaltering gaze and then turned it back to Arthur.

"You are jealous." He spat. "You just want Morgana to yourself!" Arthur raved.

"Women are not my specialty. I do not care for them. I am trying to save you from a horrible mistake." Tristan's gaze turned to where Morgana stood.

"I can judge that for myself." Arthur answered smugly.

"Suit yourself. She's gone now." Tristan walked away, a slight smile on his face, though he still did not like the situation. Before he was able to get back to the safety of his corner, a young adolescent girl pranced up, stopping him in his tracks, leaving him trying to figure out how he could walk around her.

"Sir Tristan, would you like to dance with me?" She blushed slightly but the ale in her made her more confident. He just stood there, dumbfounded, not knowing how to reply.

"Well, go on Tristan! She asked you to dance!" Galahad laughed as he swung by with a girl that looked like the other's sister. Slowly, he budged and thought he'd give it a try. He'd seen Lancelot do this many times, the other knights as well. It shouldn't be too hard for him. He put a steady arm at her waist and took her hand rather firmly. She gasped in pain.

"Sorry. It's my sword hand." He mumbled an apology. He knew he had to lead and tried to move. It started off fine but soon he found that he was stepping on her feet and they weren't moving very fast. After a few more attempts of this and failures in response, he let go of her hand and brought his arm from her waist back down to his side.

"You need to find yourself another partner. I can not dance." He slipped gracefully out of the hall and into the deserted village. He decided that there was one thing that was deserving of his attention and it was not a girl. In the stables, he picked up his horse brush and began softly stroking the horse's back as it neighed in reply. The sounds of two drunken men heading for the stables made him want to slink into the shadows once more but the audible sounds of "Galahad, you horse's ass stop walking into me!" and "You can't even walk straight!" made it clear that it was only Galahad and Gawaine and no one to hide from. Shuffling was heard at the entrance.

"Tristan! Your date told us you shied off from her!" Gawaine slurred drunkenly.

"She told us you could not dance!" Galahad smiled and laughed heartily. "Look, it's easy!" He turned to Gawaine and grabbed his hand and waist. Both started to sing a tuneless song and swinging each other around wildly, before they both tripped and landed in a pile of horse manure. They didn't seem to notice it. They continued to laugh harder than ever, inebriated to the point of no return. Tristan looked to the two buckets of water he was going to use to clean the tangled and matted blood from the horse's mane and found a better use for it. He picked up the buckets and splashed them all over Galahad and Gawaine, soaking them. After he did this, he decided just to go back to his room and sleep for the rest of the night, there was no point in staying awake when he was sober and everyone else drunk.

On his way to his chamber, the other knights had come out of the party and were headed for the Round Table.

"Have you seen Galahad and Gawaine?" asked Lancelot. He made a stabbing gesture towards the stables behind him and Lancelot headed off in that direction. Bors, who was already half drunk, him in on what was happening. Bishop Germanius had sent his trusted secretary, Horton, to deliver a message to the knights that they were to meet him at the Table immediately. Tristan could sense this was the end of the party for them, he couldn't even pretend to feel sorry.

After all the knights are collected and assembled around the table, the Bishop entered and began his speech.

"A little over a days journey from here, there is a village in need of your services. Many quarrels have been going on there and recently they have become more serious. Three men have died during these fights. You must go see what you can do and try to fix the problem. We cannot have Rome's people dying needlessly."

"You mean unless they are killed by your charge." Galahad lashed out. "You mean it is not okay for people living under Rome's command to die unless it's by the hands of the Roman leaders themselves." His comment was quite valid, even taking into consideration his state of mind. Germanius would hear no more of it and sent them on their way. They would leave at first light, sober or not.

As they poured out into the streets again, Lancelot spoke his mind.

"Damage control duty! Is that all we are good for now? Why do the Saxons not come, or the Jutes?" Tristan cut him short.

"Be careful what you wish for, we are all going to die some day, but you might bring your death into your own hands."

"He's right you know." Arthur seemed hard pressed to agree but agree he must. "We should consider it a blessing that all we are good for right now is curbing damage. Rome is at peace." Once again, Galahad made it known that he hated Rome with a string of obscenities and Gawaine and the others followed suit as they lingered off into the darkness.

Next morning, before the sun had a chance to awake in the sky, the knights rode off, they did not stop until it was night was more to eat and rest.


	2. Mysterious Rider

Author's Note: Thank you **Rebecca** for reviewing. More advice is welcome! This chapter here, I'm kind of winging because I lost the plot while I moved but I do remember what happens somewhat.

Chapter Two: Unexpected Guests and Death

The knights climbed off their horses, all tired and stiff. Galahad and Gawaine finally sobered up and were in a worse mood than anyone because of their headaches. They set about making a fire, bickering about how cold it was, and Tristan was sent to hunt for the food. The others busied themselves with trivial things.

Before long, they were well fed and getting sleepy. Arthur had just gotten up to find a good spot to sleep when Tristan jolted to a stand. The other knights heard it too; hurried hooves, more than one set heading in their direction. Everyone stood now, alert, weapons out and at the ready. When the galloping did not seem to slow in the slightest, Lancelot jumped onto his horses back and prepared to stop them. In a matter of seconds, a hooded figure on a huge horse came round the corner. Lancelot reared his horse into the path, making the rider's horse rear as well. It stamped its feet nervously, wanting to continue running. The horse's panting breath, visible in clouds because of the cold. The rider's breath was puffing silently upwards as well, also very winded and chest heaving. All weapons pointed at the individual cloaked in black.

"Lower your hood and get off your horse." Arthur ordered. The rider did nothing, the horse still stirring to leave. "Do as I say or my scout will kill you." Arthur ordered again in a voice of deadly calm. The rider glanced at Tristan from under the hood; he could feel the watchful eyes, feel the connection of both, then…

"Your scout will not harm me." A woman's voice spoke from the depths of the cloak. He didn't recognize the voice, but still he felt the strong connection.

"Tristan, kill her." Arthur commanded. Tristan, not taking his eyes away from the stare, lowered his bow and arrow that was fitted beside the string.

"I can't." He stated simply. He had the weirdest feeling. But it couldn't be her, she would surely be dead by now, she couldn't possibly have survived.

"If he won't, I will!" called Lancelot from atop his horse and fitted an arrow into his bow. Tristan dropped his bow and forgotten arrow on the ground and in a flash had his sword out near Lancelot's neck.

"Tristan!" Both Lancelot and Arthur yelled in surprise. Gawaine, Galahad, and Bors all stood staring on in shock.

Before anything else could be said, a strange whistling filled the air. Everyone looked up and a single arrow flew through the clearing behind the rider and struck her in the shoulder. Everyone drew weapons and the mysterious rider pulled the arrow out of her shoulder and leapt lightly off her horse, drawing a pair of weapons from inside her cloak, two curved swords, much like Tristan's. She showed no sign of the pain that must be caused by the injury in her shoulder. From amid the trees in the wood came hundreds of Woads. The knights rushed into battle and so did this woman, never once letting her hood fall and expose her face. The battle was wild. It seemed that when a Woad was killed, thrice as many appeared behind that one. They fought fiercely. The woman was having a slight problem lifting her arm to any oncoming strikes and so had to reverse her tactic and began using the other hand to defend and strike out with the other. All her blows had to be exact and calculated, clean cuts across the chests of the blue people, painful gashes that they would not recover from. Most of the time, she had the honor to kill men quickly, less pain, but it had been so long since a man had physically hurt her that she wanted to hurt them all back. Tristan and Galahad were fighting next to her, Tristan moves were smooth and quick, but she noticed he was playing the same game with these men as she was, killing slowly. Galahad was just trying to fight the all off, they seemed to gang up on them and the other knights were beginning to cluster on the offending forces. She was trying to fight three men and had just managed to kill one of them when her feet came out from under her and she went down to the ground, cracking her head on the sharp rocks surrounding the field, losing consciousness. Any Woads that were left were beginning to run back toward the tree line and into the forest. The knights sank onto the ground, exhausted and covered in blood. Tristan moved over to the woman and felt the back of her head to make sure there was no bleeding. Once he was sure she was fine, he sat down beside her, wiping his hand on the inside of his tunic, he pulled a juicy, green apple out of an inside pocket and began chomping silently on it.

"How can you eat after all that?" asked Gawaine disgustedly. Tristan looked down at his apple through his mat of dark hair in front of his face and then back up at him.

"Killing makes me hungry." He stated simply. Bors laughed heartily and the woman jolted awake but he paid no attention.

"It also makes you relaxed." He shook his bald head. "You're a funny one you are." All former thoughts of Tristan turning on Lancelot with his sword were forgotten. Every eye in the camp was on the woman again. She stood up and moved her head right and then left, Lancelot cringed as it cracked. She rubbed her neck and moved toward her giant black steed. Arthur stood quickly.

"No, wait, who are you?" He asked, putting a hand on her shoulder, forgetting that it was injured. She shrugged it off swiftly and went about making sure that her bags were set on it back sturdily. Another set of hooves was heard coming towards them in the darkness. Everyone drew swords yet again and steadied for another fight. The woman walked back to the place where she had fallen near Tristan and picked up her swords, it was a surprise to see her put them away. Another giant brown horse came around the bend of trees and stopped at the sight of the mutilated corpses and then at the armed knights in front of him. Then to the girl behind them getting ready to mount her horse.

"Girl, what have you done now?" He seethed. He looked around at the knights again; his eyes feel on Tristan, who was now putting his sword away, all suspicions confirmed. The man spoke again.

"Son?" He asked, hardly believing those words, his mouth agape. All knights were watching apprehensively, everyone had shared stories of home but Tristan; they forgot he must have a father as well. They all watched as Tristan inclined his head slightly. The man gave an almighty leap from the horse and ran to him, swallowing in a great bone-crushing hug. Tristan hardly returned the embrace. He most obviously got his mannerisms and looks from his mother, because they looked nothing alike. Bors was still trying to comprehend this with Galahad but Gawaine was starting to catch on.

"Hang on, if this is your father," In his pause he turned to the silent girl who was trying to shrug off to the side. "This must be," He paused again, closing his eyes and opening them again. "This must be your sister?" He completed finally. He sounded as if he hardly believed it himself. Galahad chimed in.

"Of course! That's why he wouldn't kill her, because he knew it was his sister. She was now trying to hide behind her horse, and doing a good job of it, standing, she only reached the middle of the horse's belly. Tristan called to her quietly.

"Aurora, come here and show me your face." Slowly, almost hesitantly, she sidled towards him and the knights and brought her hands up to her hood. As she lowered it, a dark curtain of hair fell in front of her face, exactly like Tristan. Then she took the entire cloak off to reveal a dirty brown tunic over a well-worn gray dress. A few strands of her long hair were in uneven braids and the majority of it fell down her back in a lose plait. She had the same markings on her cheeks as Tristan; but there was one difference. Only one of her eyes was dark brown, the other was a bright, almost clear blue. Her face was smeared with dirt and some blood from her own nose (the blood was not fresh), and her left eye was bruised, making the blue stand out all the more vividly. She looked to the ground. Tristan moved towards her and put his hand to the back of her neck in an affectionate manner. She hugged him tightly. Even more surprising to the knights, Tristan hugged her back.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you both, and your welcome to ride with us. It is time to rest now, we've had a long day and it is quite late already." Arthur broke the ice. The knights mumbled in a shocked tone but tracked off to find a place to sleep. Aurora broke away from Tristan first and found herself a tree to sleep under. She through her cloak over herself and closed her eyes. Tristan and her father picked a spot near her and she noticed that her father went to sleep instantaneously and started snoring but Tristan stayed awake. She stayed silently awake with him as well, mulling over everything that had happened that day, especially, getting her brother back; that was her last thought before she fell into a peaceful sleep.

AN: Sorry, I know this chapter is probably going on forever for you and I know it was shorter than the last one but I have a headache, I'm tired and I have a cat itching to climb onto my last and press the keys on the keyboard so I'll have to call it a night. It's only about ten o' clock here but last night the cat wouldn't stop yowling all night so I was up quiet a bit playing with her. Anyway, I'll write more later.

Alyssa


	3. Horse Hair

1

Disclaimer: No, I don't own anything from king Arthur except for the DVD and of course, who wouldn't want to own Tristan... anyway.. I'll get on to the chapter now.

Chapter Three: The Village

The next morning Aurora awoke before anyone else and sat up, stiff and tired. She could never get a good night sleep as long as she was on foreign soil. Slowly she moved her shoulder in circular movements; she had forgotten all about it. It hurt, badly, but she would never admit it.

"You should have looked after that last night." She was surprised, but didn't jump, Tristan was sitting beside her, looking out at the sleeping camp.

"Do you ever sleep?" she asked.

"Do you?" He returned.

"Fair enough."

The knights were getting up now and packing up the camp to get moving. It took about fifteen minutes and they were climbing onto their horses backs. Aurora and her father climbed steadily onto their horses as well and Tristan rode off ahead to scout with his father in toe and Aurora was left behind with Arthur and the other knights.

"I had no idea that Tristan had a sister." Galahad tried to make light conversation. Aurora barely acknowledged this comment. She just kept looking straight ahead and alerted to her surroundings.

"How is your shoulder?" Dagonet attempted jovially.

"It is fine." She sighed slightly and decided to try a conversation with these men. They were after all, her brother's companions. "So what are your names?" She asked.

"I'm Galahad." The man with the curly hair and nice smile said. "And this is Bors," he pointed to the man with the chunky build that woke her up when he laughed the night before. "Dagonet" The quiet, bald one. "Gawaine," The man with the long blonde hair. "And of course, Lancelot, you two already had a little bit of a run in," The man who was going to kill her last night. "And last but not least, Arthur." The leader of the group.

She nodded lightly at all of them and asked how long they had been on the road.

"This is only our second day," Lancelot said. "We must go to a town and do damage control. We are Sarmation Knights, this is not what we were meant for!" He started to get worked up. Aurora cut him off with her quiet but demanding voice.

"Be careful what you wish for, we are all going to die someday, but you might bring your death into your own hands."

"Do you have any idea how much like your brother you really are?" Lancelot sulked in an awe-struck voice.

"He's right you know, I believe those were the exact words that Tristan said to him." Said Bors, with a little chuckle that could shake the surrounding trees. Aurora fell into worried thoughts and scratched the dried blood on her face unconsciously. Here and there, she ducked to miss a branch that was there but that she didn't see.

By mid afternoon, Arthur and his troop were in the village now and asking if there was any food for lunch. As they sat down to eat, Tristan sat down on one side of Aurora and her father sat on the other, being overly protective. Their lunch consisted of a bread roll and a goblet of wine each. She raised her hand to take a sip of wine and Gawaine from across the table spoke to her.

"I didn't notice that cloth on your hand, did you hurt that as well?" She looked quickly down at her hand that was indeed wrapped in a dirty piece of material from her tunic. Swift as a sword through flesh, it was hidden inside her tunic and she was careful not to show it again...not just yet.

Arthur finished talking to some woman and was walking up to her as she finished her wine, her brother and father still sitting beside her, father chatting away with Bors about unexpected axe movements. Arthur was carrying a beautiful green bundle and a brown cloak. He handed it to Aurora and she looked back up at him for an explanation.

"Dagonet will clean your wound now and after that there is a stream not to far that way that you can wash up in. These are your clothes." She looked at them and then back up to Arthur, he smiled. "You are a woman. I will not have you dressing in rags. I'm sure that underneath all that dirt and blood, you're a very pretty young woman." He was trying to be nice and treat her as he would anyone else but the truth was that her father was the one he didn't like. The way he made sure he always knew where she was at all times and was angry at her when he found her with them. She stood and went to the caravan that Arthur made sure they took with them incase someone was injured and Dagonet had a basin of water that was heated over a fire and some spare wine from the table. He also had a very blunt, dull-looking needle and some thick thread. She took off her tunic with a little pain and he spared her the indignity by merely ripping the dress and the spot where the wound was. First, he wiped it clean with the warm water.

"This may hurt a bit." He said off handedly. Without any further warning, he poured the red liquid onto the wound. She winced ever so slightly, but remained impassive. Dagonet saw the muscles in her back twinge and tense a little but there was no other sign that it was hurting her.

_Brave girl._ He thought. What she wasn't expecting after that was for him to take a hot poker to her shoulder.

"I have to do this, the arrow severed something and you will die if I don't close it. I know this will hurt and I'm sorry for it." She tensed again and felt the hot poker enter her skin. Her eyes clouded over and she took a shuddering breath. And then it was over, there was still pain, but the poker was gone. Next, he took the needle and thread and began to stitch the wound together to make sure that it closed. That was painful too, he knew that, but know real signs that she felt it.

_A true warrior like her brother._

After that, he draped her tunic over her exposed back and she wondered out to the stream. She didn't know that someone was watching her bathe. Before she got into the stream, she took all her weapons out of their respective places and laid them on the ground, still in her site. First her two swords at her sides, then the dagger hidden in her bosom, six cutlasses from pockets in the bodice of her dress, two daggers at each thigh, one at each ankle, and two cutlasses at her back. Her bow and arrows were still attached to her horse's side and she had another dagger that sat in an ornate holder in her hair when it was clean and not as messy looking. But the man didn't know about that one because she wasn't wearing that now. She undressed and began to wash. The man was about to leave, but then decided to stay and watch her bathing. When her hair was clean, it was only slightly less dark brown. She washed the grime off her hands and face and entire body. But there was no time to relax, she had to get back to the town. She dried off and put on the dress. She supposed it was nice. She had never worn anything so beautiful in her life. It was a vivid emerald green and matched one of her eyes, she guessed that was why Arthur picked it. She pulled the cloak over her shoulders and began to trek back to the village. When she got back, there was a crowd around Arthur and she could hear him practically shouting at them.

"You are free, don't you let them tell you that you're not! But this cannot go on, an innocent Roman boy has died today and he didn't do anything. Yes, the Romans may deserve it for whatever the reason, but it is not your place to go around giving punishment, it is God who decides that! This boy had nothing to do with the sins of the rest of the world, why do this? Why? When you are free all ready to live your lives in piece and harmony?"

He was so frustrated with them that he heaved a great sigh and moved through the crowd toward me. "A boy was killed earlier today. We must stay for the funeral processions tomorrow. It is our duty." We walked toward the little tavern where we had lunch. Dagonet, Galahad, and Gawaine were sitting at the table laughing, obviously with more wine in their veins than blood. Tristan and his father were throwing knives at a table. It was easy to see that Tristan also got his aiming ability from his mother. As Arthur and Aurora walked closer to them, they looked up and stared at her for the first time, able to see her face.

"You're a little more clean shaven then him." Bors jabbed his finger behind him at Tristan and they all burst out laughing. She almost managed a smile but looked over their heads out the other side of the tavern at the Roman soldiers riding up to meet them.

"You may have to stay for this funeral but my father and I don't, are you coming, father?" She brought her hood up over her eyes. Everyone stopped laughing and her father looked behind him at the soldiers. "Right you are, Aurora. We'll be leaving now." They both whistled for their horses which were roaming not too far from the stable across the path.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, we thought you were going to stay with us a little longer." Arthur tried to grasp this.

"Thank you for the dress, and Dagonet, thank you for fixing my shoulder but we have to leave.-" At these words the soldiers charged up as Aurora was about to kick her horse into a gallop.

"You hold it there!" the leader yelled. A horse charged between Aurora and her father and the way out.

"Is there something wrong?" Arthur tried to reason.

"Tell that one to lower her hood!" He barked. Aurora did as she was told and turned her horse to look at the soldier. "These two stole food yesterday! And This one," He pointed to Aurora. "Murdered an innocent man!" All eyes were on her.

"Aurora, is this true?" Arthur asked.

"Yes." She stated without hesitating. "We did steal food yesterday because we were starving and yes, I did kill a man yesterday but he was hardly innocent." She said in that soft voice. "He was going to try and kill my father and I, he said he knew where my brother was and was going to kill him too." She looked straight into Arthur's eyes with her own mismatched ones. He believed her. He helped her. She didn't understand why, but he helped her.

"I am Arthur, future king of all Britain, and I believe that she is innocent, so innocent she shall be since the only word you have is that of a dead man." He stated aggressively and she was surprised. Apparently so were they and they rode off though Aurora knew that her name was not cleared with them the way Arthur thought it would be.

Later that night, Aurora was sitting under a tree in a grove listening to the stream gurgling nearby. Her father entered the little clearing, though he made so much noise that it was hardly a surprise visit.

"Why are you wearing that dress? You don't deserve it. You little wench!" She just looked straight ahead, trying to ignore him and listen to the stream but it was impossible. "How could you drag me into your spat with the guards? You stole the food in the first place! AND, you were the one who killed the man not me! HOW DARE YOU NOT LISTEN TO ME! I'LL TEACH YOU!" He screamed and backhanded her hard across her left cheek. She toppled slightly sideways and he grabbed her by the shoulders and began shaking her violently. She winced at the pain and a tiny cry of pain escaped her lips.

"What's that! Are you showing your pain? You definitely are not your mother's daughter! I'll have to teach you more self control!" He began punching every inch of her that he could, as hard as he could. An arrow shot through the thick trees and bushes and into her father's head. He slumped over, dead. Tristan entered the clearing and sat down beside his sister. He couldn't believe what he had seen, but he suspected it. He was already damned for killing so many people, but he would sit in the devils thrown himself before he would ever let anyone hurt his little sister. She sat up as straight as she could again and her older brother put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. He whispered quietly in her ear.

"You are everything mom was and more." She buried her face in his tunic and she couldn't stop the hot, stinging tears from falling from her eyes.

After two hours of just sitting there, letting her cry, they got up and began to wander slowly back to the village. They passed the shady crowded tavern and from a shadowed spot jumped a man and hit them on the head, knocking them into unconsciousness. When they woke, their hands were bound and all of their weapons were gone, all except the one in Aurora's hair that she had taken the time to put on earlier. She cut Tristan free and he was on the verge of cutting her free when a trapdoor in the floor opened and Galahad, Gawaine, Bors, Lancelot, and Dagonet were pushed up the stairs, all their hands bound as well. Guards came up with them and lifted Aurora off the floor and dragged her down the stairs, Tristan didn't want to sacrifice the weapon and knew that whatever this was, his sister could handle it, she gave him that look that told him she was strong, and not to worry. The other knights protested and began to push forward but the two other guards pushed back and they fell to the floor, the guards went down the steps in the trap door and latched it shut behind them. They all left the guards room below and they had nothing to do but cut each other free and ask Tristan what was happening. The last question that Tristan was asked was:

"Where's your father, did he escape?" Galahad asked, slightly breathless from the excitement.

"My father is dead." Tristan said it in such a tone that they knew it wasn't a guard that killed him but that Tristan himself killed him.

Aurora was pushed into a room with many furnishings in it, including a bed. The guard left her in there and latched the door shut. Before long, the man who wanted her dead in the first place for killing his brother entered the room: Demos Maronous.

"Now I have you all to myself, and believe me, I will kill you, but I think I have the right to a little fun first." He licked his lips lustfully, looking her up and down. He swooped down on her and pushed her onto the bed, biting her neck and lips until they bled. His hand was running up her leg now and she tried to get herself out from under him. She managed to get beside him and that was good enough for her, she swung her bound hands around his neck and stood quickly, pulling him up with her. She heaved the rope back, could feel it cutting her wrists open but he was gasping for air, that was good. She jerked back as hard as she could and soon, Maronous stopped moving and slumped to the floor. She took a second to straighten out her dress a little and then started kicking him under the bed where he couldn't be seen. Moving to the window, she leaned through it and whistled for her horse. He came galloping and she apologized to him when she pulled two strands of his tail hair out. She slapped his side to make him go and turned back to sit on the bed and make herself look disheveled and scared again. She called for the guard and when he came he looked around the room.

"Where is Maronous?" He asked, his eyebrows crowed together in suspicion.

"He had to leave, a man came to the door and said he had important business for him, he left immediately and told me to call a guard to come and get me." The finish was a scared look up at him and then back to the floor. He moved into the room and grabbed her by the arm, thrusting her into the corridor and back to the little gaol. There were no other guards in the little quarters below the gaol and she made her move to get herself and the knights free. She stopped the guard before he unlatched the trapdoor to release the stairs.

"Wait, wait!" She brushed against him slightly. "These ropes are just so tight, do you think you could cut them off for me?" She backed him toward a chair with a seductive glare. "I mean, it just hurts my hands so much," She paused for effect. "And I'm _very _good with my hands." She emphasized. He seemed to think about it for a second.

All the knights in the cell upstairs were watching through the cracks in the floorboards, not believing that she would stoop to this to get herself free. The only one who didn't seem worried was Tristan.

"She's got a plan."He whispered softly, almost to himself.

The knight looked down at her short figure in the green dress.

"If I cut you free, will you give me what I want?" He asked. She played with him, knowing what he wanted.

"And what is it that you want?" She asked, a smile playing on her chapped, swollen and bleeding lips.

"You." He said, there was hunger and lust in his voice.

"Of course." She whispered back seductively. He wasted no time in cutting the ropes and she pushed him into one of the three chairs in the room and sat on his lap, kissing him hard.

It was hard for Tristan to watch, but Bors was about to scream at her. Gawaine covered his mouth quickly, seeing what he was about to do.

Aurora didn't stop kissing him. She worked her bandaged hand through his hair and the other hand was taking off his armor, fingers running along his chest, suddenly, she found what she was looking for. The dagger that all Roman shoulders kept inside their armor for emergency use. She grabbed it and thrust it deep into his chest. He gasped slightly in surprise and stopped moving. Bors began to cheer, relieved at her trickery but she put a finger to her lips and found the two strands of long horse hair in her bandage. There was a nail on either post of the small doorway. She wound the horse hairs around one nail and twisted it together across the doorway. She used the other nail to keep the strands level and explained the rest of her plan.

"Bors, you'll sound like a guard, when I say so, yell to the other guards that the prisoners are escaping. Then I want you all to turn and look at the back wall. Don't look until I tell you." She looked at where Bors would have been sitting, she couldn't see through the boards and he tried to argue. She didn't wait for him to and got a firmer grip on the hairs.

"-Now." She said calmly and Bors sighed and began to yell.

"Guards! The prisoners! They're escaping! Help!" He yelled and the sound of two sets of heavy feet from the other room running down the hall were heard. The guards ran straight into the wire, getting them in the neck, hair was sharp enough to slit their throats and they fell to the floor with a meaty thud. Aurora threw the hairs back at the other nail and turned the guards onto their back so that they couldn't see the throats. From upstairs, voices were hear.

"Galahad! You were supposed to turn around! You daft lump!" Lancelot scolded and another weaker voice was heard.

"I suppose you taught her that one Tristan?" asked Galahad. Then, another voice.

"Actually no, I have never seen that one before. She'll have to teach me."

"Galahad!" Aurora sighed exasperatedly. She moved to the latch and slid it back so that the trap door fell open and they all came down.

"Grab a sword, we're getting out of here the same way we came in. Tristan and I don't remember so you'll have to navigate and fight." Aurora started handing out the guards swords.

"What about you?" Asked Galahad, extremely pale.

"I have my dagger, that's good enough for me." She took the dagger from Tristan and started for the door, sliding her hood over her eyes again. The others followed and Bors lead the way, thrashing at anyone who came near. Aurora followed up the rear, silently killing. A buff man came at her and she did an elegant twist around to his back and stabbed him where his gheart would be. Eventually they entered into the night, there being no one left to stop them, they walked back toward their quarters where Arthur seemed asleep and unaware of what happened to his knights. It would stay that way.


	4. The Funeral

1

Common Ground

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from King Arthur but I do own Aurora and any other character that doesn't appear in the movie.

AN: Yay! I made it to the fourth chappie without getting too discouraged! But I would like everyone who reads this to please R&R because it's the advice and comments that make me want to continue! So please feel free, you can even flame me if you want. Anyway, onto the story...

Chapter 4: The Jutes

The next morning, after about two hours of sleep for the knights and Aurora, but not Arthur, they cleaned and dressed for the funeral of the Roman boy. Aurora even took her hair out of her plait and let one of the women in the village turn it into an intricate twist with a few strands hanging down. The little uneven braids were still in it because she refused to have to braid them again, they were simply tucked into the knot. The woman also made some sort of paste from some grain, herbs, and a little bit of water to make a skin colored spread to cover the tattoos on her face. She was hesitant at first to let her put it on because it was a symbol of her people; all warriors had them on there cheeks, of course in their family crest, every house was unique. In the end, she just decided to let the woman do it and she would wipe it off after the funeral. When she was finished, she looked at her reflection in her sword, it was impossible to tell she even had the markings. There was no getting around the differently colored eyes though, she had to put up with the stares of people because they had never seen anything like them before. For someone who didn't like to draw attention to herself in the first place, it was hard to get used to.

She walked out of the woman's tiny hut and met Gawaine a little off to the side of the procession of people walking to the grove where the funeral would be held. He was rapidly trying to comb his fingers through his hair and stopped when he saw her coming. He looked at her hair, then at her cheeks and then down at her dress, apparently speechless.

_She may be like her brother but at least we can see her face better._

"You look nice." He finally managed.

"Thank you. I see you've tried to cut your beard shorter, and wash your face." Automatically, he felt his beard, which was indeed a little shorter than usual.

"It'll grow back by tomorrow." He laughed. She smiled, a rare sight and quickly wiped it from her face.

"Why did you stop smiling? It was a nice change from your usual tight-lipped silence." He commented and she felt her face grow hot. It was unusual for someone to compliment her like that. Tristan came up behind them and clapped his hand on his sister's uninjured shoulder. The others came right behind him. Tristan it seemed had managed to scrub some of the dirt from his face and tried to wash his hair but it would need more than one washing to get all the grime out of it, Aurora wouldn't have been surprised if it had started to seep into his brain. She allowed herself a little chuckle at the thought. Bors had also scrubbed his face clean, it was so clean it was raw. She thought Arthur had ordered him to do it by the way he was glaring at him. Vanora had probably never even seen it so clean. He had also wrapped a piece of material into a turban around his head. Galahad trimmed his beard a little as well and his curls were slightly more bouncy than normal, which suggested that his hair was still wet. Dagonet looked the same as usual, he was usually pretty clean and Lancelot as well had washed his hair and face until they were clean. Arthur was a lot like Dagonet and didn't need to clean himself up too much.

"Nice hair!" Galahad snorted into his hand. Aurora heard it anyway.

"I could say the same to you." She shot back. This made him stop laughing immediately.

"We had better go now." Arthur sighed. The group moved into the grassy area and Arthur lead them up to the front of the crowd. Aurora stayed behind, she didn't want to offend, neither did she want to draw attention to her herself. She didn't feel right being there in the first place, she wasn't a knight, wasn't even honorable, she had killed too many to be considered it. Tristan spotted her farther back in the crowd and walked over to join her.

"It doesn't feel right to me either." He said simply and the funeral began.

Because it was for a Roman, the whole event was rather long. It was a very hot day and Aurora could feel the sun getting to her. She was starting to get dizzy and nauseous, though she didn't let it show. What made her feel like she was going to wretch were the mourners. They were crying and moaning as if they were in agony when they didn't even know the boy properly. She knew this was how things had always been done with the Romans but it still made her sick. Finally, it was over and Arthur moved to the boy's parents to give his condolences. He ordered the knights to go back and pack up, get the horses ready. Arthur joined them after a brief lunch with the family.

As they were on their way out of the town, Aurora looked around and saw a little boy teasing a little girl, holding her doll in the air above her head where she couldn't reach it. Aurora jumped off her horse and took the toy from the boy. She gave him a look that said "Don't try that again" and gave the doll to the little girl. She stopped crying and smiled up at her. Aurora patted her gently on the head and climbed back onto her horse as the others looked at her. She could they were surprised that she would stop for something she would find so insignificant.

They were about fifteen minuted outside of town when Arthur suddenly turned to Aurora.

"Where is your father, surely he would want to come with us?" He asked. Aurora stole a look in Tristan's direction and he answered before she had the chance.

"He's dead." He stated simply. Arthur asked him if it was a guard who had killed him but Tristan said no more.

Later that night, they were about to stop and set up camp when Tristan was suddenly more alert than usual. At first, Aurora didn't notice, and then, she was suddenly sitting straight up on her horse and looking into the deep forest as if she could see the end and was scanning it. Dagonet was silently watching them curiously and the others were looking straight ahead, not noticing. In a flash of movement, Aurora had her bow out and shot an arrow into the thick, dense trees. Most of the men still didn't notice, but when they heard a grunt of pain from the trees, they paid heed. Tristan having fired an arrow as well, halted his horse and Aurora did the same and the rest followed suit. Aurora and Tristan hopped lightly off and walked into the woods, swords raised.

Aurora was the first one into the woods, the man she had killed was lying face down on the ground, an arrow protruding out of his back. The other man was still alive, Tristan walked over, knelt near the man's face, saw that he was still alive, stood up again and grabbed the man's neck, twisting it hard to the right, a sickening snap was heard. Tristan picked the now motionless man up and hauled him over his shoulders to his horse. Aurora couldn't do that because of her injured shoulder, so Tristan came back and took the man from her.

"Who are they?" Arthur asked.

"Judging by the weapons, they are foreigners." Tristan commented.

"They look like Jutes." Aurora stated casually as if she were talking about having mud on her face. She was looking at the clothes and the weapons, Tristan nodded his approval. He threw them over the horse's backside and climbed back on.

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Arthur, thinking Tristan might just eat them if he was hungry enough.

"I'm going to give these jutes a warning, tell them not to come looking for us." He kicked his horse gently and it started moving.

"Whatever you're planning to do, could it possibly work the other way and spur them on to attack us?" Lancelot asked sarcastically but with some truth to it.

"It definitely could; and it probably will. I'm giving this warning for their own good, not ours. If they decide to attack us, then so be it. Aurora could take a few at a time, so could I, and so could all of you, especially if we have the advantage, and we will."

Late that night, they set up camp and Tristan went off into the forest and took the two bodies with him.

"What is he going to do with them?" Galahad asked Aurora with an edge to his voice. She looked him straight in the eye and replied.

"I don't know." this was the wring thing to say, Galahad started laying into her.

"What do you mean you don't know, you're his sister! You two know everything about each other, he even knew you were his sister with that hood on and he hadn't seen you for fifteen years! Don't tell me you don't know!-" He hit her hard on her injured shoulder, forgetting it was injured. Aurora stood up quickly and there was deadly calm in her voice, but it was dripping with an icy warning that he was going to far.

"Who said that I hadn't seen my brother in fifteen years, for all you know, we could have seen each other the day before we met in the clearing. Regardless, I still do not know what Tristan is doing in the forest with those bodies, nor do I care to think that it is any of my business. You should do the same." She moved out of the warmth of the fire light and went to sit under a shady tree in the darkness. Galahad followed her with his gaze.

"Did you see him the day before we met in the clearing?" he asked stubbornly, not understanding the complexity of her warning. Gawaine, who was watching from beside the fire, understood that he needed to back off, Galahad might have been able to erase the scene from the gaol from his mind, but he couldn't at least not that easily.

"Back off Galahad, she doesn't know what he's doing, come and eat your rabbit meat." He chanced a glance into the depths of the tree and could feel her eyes watching him but couldn't see them. Galahad sat down in a huff and refused to talk to her for the rest of the night.

Meanwhile, back in the forest, Tristan set the bodies down on the soft ground, his chest heaving slightly from the effort of carrying two fully grown men. He took out a dagger from an inside pocket and moved it to the shirt of the first man. He peeled off the armor, piece by piece and found his bare chest, on the left side was a burn mark, a unique mark in the shape of some kind of predatory bird. Using the dagger, he cut the piece of flesh out and did the same to the other man. When he had them both, he tore a piece of material from his tunic and wrapped the pieces of flesh in it. He called for his trusted hawk and she came soaring down to him. He affectionately stroked her for a moment and then gave her the pouch to hold on to. He told her to deliver it to the leader of the Jutes and she was off, soaring through the air again. He noticed that the hawk was moving in the way that they had come from and this puzzled him. But for the moment he didn't care, he was hungry and wanted to get something to eat, there wouldn't be much left after the others ate, but they always left him something.

AN: So, what did you think? R&R please and tell me! Have bits and pieces of the chapter and last chapter been a little gory? Obviously I'm talking about the horse hair and the whole cutting of the fleshiness. Do I need a little bit off fluff/ romance going on? Any comments or whatever, please post, keep me inspired!

Alyssa


	5. Back to the Post

1

Common Ground

Chapter five: Back to the Post

The next morning, Aurora was up earlier than normal. She decided to wipe off her blades, shine them up. She knew she had her old tunic on her horses back, she grabbed it and sat on a rock nearby, wiping the sticky blade. To losing up some of the dried blood, she spat heartily on it. She didn't care that it was not feminine. There was almost no part in her life where someone considered her a woman, and she liked it that way, most of the time. There was a part of her that wished she had someone to go home to, but she didn't, neither did she have a home on this island, her heart belonged to Eire, Ireland, her true home.

It was dark out when she started, but she was lost in thoughts, and when she awoke from them, it was light out and the men were packing up. She put her swords away, they had been cleaned and polished for about an hour, and moved over to where Arthur was packing up his horse.

"Where are we heading today?" She asked him, pulling an apple out of a pouch at her waist and taking a huge bite.

"We're going home, to our post." We can rest and drink, eat properly, do whatever we like. Then he added: "Within reason of course."

"Why are you keeping my brother here? Why won't you let him go home to Ireland?" She asked suddenly but in the same quite voice as per usual. Arthur looked around at her in surprise.

"I thought you understood, your brother is here because of his own free will. A few months ago, he was here because it was his duty to Rome from the debts of his father, and your's, but he chose to stay with me and the men. Part of me thinks it is for the killing that he stays." He pulled a strap tight on his horse's side.

"My brother likes to kill, but only because it's the only thing that gives him solace here, he is not happy. Why would my brother choose to be unhappy for the rest of his life or until someone kills him?-" Tristan, who was standing behind her, cut her off.

"I stay here because it is what I choose to do. I could have gone home many times, but you wouldn't have been there anyway, and mother died years ago, I wouldn't have gone back if it was just father. Now you are here, so I _am_ happy. I stay here because these are my friends and they are loyal to me." Aurora didn't show any signs of surprise or annoyance, though he knew she was a little of both. Arthur decided to change the subject.

"So you are more talkative today, Aurora." He commented.

"Indeed." She gave him a look and whistled for her horse.

By mid afternoon, they were already over halfway to the post. Bors occupied her much of the time by regaling her with tales of his eleven children, and how only one of them is named. She was only half listening but she thought it was precious that such a warrior loved his children so much, even if he almost always called them his "bastards". It was endearing to witness such a sight.

"You are a very loyal and loving man, Bors." She smiled a small smile at him. She didn't know why she was talking so much; it was not in her nature, and with her father around, he forbade her to talk to anyone, even him sometimes. Maybe it was that, her father's death was finally sinking in and that she was with good men who applauded her freedom and persuaded her to use it to her advantage.

By dusk, they had entered the little town that was home to Arthur and the knights. Aurora was introduced to Vanora, and Bors' children, then she decided her horse needed her attention. She walked quickly into the stables and away from peering eyes, relieved to see her giant black horse standing comfortably in a stall waiting for her. She picked up a little brush that was thrown aside in a pile of hay. She brought it gently across the horse's back and he neighed in approval. She spent a good few hours brushing him, then she decided to brush Tristan's horse, she new he had already taken care of the horse but it would give her something to do.

While Aurora was brushing Tristan's horse, the knights met at the Round Table, to meet with Bishop Germanius.

"Knights of the Round Table," he started in his thick Roman accent. "The Jutes are almost at Rome's door. It is up to you to keep them away. Also, you must go looking for them even more than is important to you. A very good friend of mine has taken off to find them himself with the idea that he can talk to their leader and walk away alive. You must find him and bring him home! You will leave at first light." This was all there was to the meeting and the knights moved into the tavern across the street, drinking to forget their problems.

The men were already sufficiently drunk and began to ramble a little with each other.

"You know," Galahad started, laughing with the others as he spoke. "It would be really handy to have Aurora with us when we fight the Jutes, she saved our ass' back in that gaol." He continued laughing but everyone else stopped, including Arthur. He still didn't know about that so the knights were now forced to explain the whole situation to him. When they were finished, Arthur was flabbergasted. He couldn't believe that the whole time he had been sleeping this was going on.

"I have to ask Germanius if she can accompany us, I mean, officially." He answered, his eyes still wide.

"Why, why can't you just leave it?" Galahad blurted hurriedly.

"Germanius should know about this.-" Arthur started.

"He wouldn't let her on anyway, and you know it." Replied Bors.

"I'll make him then." He got up and left the table, all knights followed hurriedly, except for Tristan who lagged at the back of the pack, not quite wanting his sister put in danger bed, he wanted to protect her at all times, he didn't think he could do that if she was on the battlefield with him.

"Get Germanius." Bors barked at Horton, the Bishops trusted secretary.

"I will not take orders from you!" Horton sneered back.

"Get Germanius." Arthur ordered. He was taken aback but reluctantly went to fetch the Bishop. When they were all congregated once again around the Table, Arthur, with a little help from the knights, told the Bishop about saving his men and about how he wanted her to come along with them to fight the Jutes.

"Absolutely not!" Germanius sounded disgusted. "I will not let a woman fight in a battle." He pounded his fist on the Table. Arthur argued.

"She isn't just some woman who has no training in dealing with this everyday! She's Tristan's sister! She honored the chivalric code, she left no man behind, and she wasn't obliged to." The Bishop eyed Tristan with a great deal of contempt; Tristan stared right back at him, feeling his fear in the air. He didn't like Tristan, that was the most obvious impression.

"Bring her in here." Germanius finally ordered. Arthur smiled.

"Gawaine, go fetch Aurora. She's in the stables." So Gawaine got up and returned a few minutes later with her, following behind him, looking as impassive as usual. They all noticed that her hair, which she had kept in the elegant knot, was now back to a simple lose plait with the tinier uneven braids hanging down, those few lose strands back in her face and the paste now wiped off and her normal tattoos showing through the curtain of hair again. Germanius spoke to her in the same tone of voice he reserved for Tristan only.

"Please, sit." He said, though it was as if she was a mass of mud.

"I'll stand." She spoke to him in the same tone. He cleared his throat and continued.

"You saved the lives of these noble knights, I will give you that but you cannot join these men in their mission. It is improper for a lady, even a lady of your standing, to accompany these men into the battle field." Aurora would not admit that she had no idea what he was talking about, but she really didn't. She did notice that someone had told Arthur about the situation in the gaol. She stole a look in Galahad's direction.

"Gawaine, did you tell her that I told Arthur?" Galahad shot Gawaine a look. Gawaine shook his head and looked back at Aurora. She decided to let someone else speak, but in the meantime, fix the Bishop with an icy, unfaltering glare.

"Bishop, please, you have to let her help us." Arthur began again.

"No! That is final!" He banged his fist on the table again.

"Bishop, either let her fight with us, or you have no army to fight for you, me and my men will leave Britain and you can fight the Jutes yourself." Arthur threatened and Germanius took a moment to figure out the pro's and con's of this. Quite obviously, the con's outweighed the pro's and he had no choice but to agree.

"Fine, you are officially traveling with Arthur, the future king, and his loyal comrades in arms, the Knights of the Round Table." He waved his hand dismissively.

"Thank you and goodnight Bishop. We are sorry to have bothered you." He left the room in a huffy silence and the knights and Aurora were left alone in the room. Tristan for the first time, started the conversation.

"You know what this means, Lancelot?" He asked him, looking in his direction. Lancelot looked quizzically back at him.

"You got what you wished for; you took your death into your own hands." He folded his own on the Table and stared at him. Lancelot simply glared back, knowing that that was exactly what he had done. Aurora didn't wait around but traipsed to the doorway and she turned to look back.

"I'll be in the stables if anyone needs me." She said and was out of sight. Galahad tried to apologize, but she was gone.

The next morning, at dawn, Aurora jumped onto her horse and started to trot down the long path out past the village with Gawaine to her immediate right and Tristan to her immediate left, the other knights in front of her.

"Are you tired this morning?" Gawaine asked her dumbly. She looked at him.

"No. Are you?" she asked him back. He laughed a little and looked ahead again.

Tristan could sense that Aurora was mad at him for not telling her about the trip. Not so much because she didn't want to be with him, but because he didn't tell her he would be leaving in the first place. The whole reason he didn't tell her was because he didn't want her worrying, or even worse, wanting to go with them, which happened anyway. She would not look at him, but kept her eyes forward, her silence was deeper than usual, even though she acted normally enough. The others didn't seem to sense it.

_Oh well._ He thought. _ It's not there problem. I just don't want her to do something that she will regret later._ He decided to leave her be for the moment and see if her anger would lighten as the day passed by.

Late in the afternoon, Tristan decided to take his chances and try to talk with her. He turned to look at her, she didn't look back.

"Aurora," He started, she showed no sign that she heard him. "Aurora, I know your upset because I didn't tell you about the mission, but.-" She kicked her horse harder and he trotted to the front of the pack, up to Arthur.

"I'm going to scout." She rode off up the path and eventually out of the line of vision.


	6. A Relationship Forms And Disbands

1

Disclaimer: Well, I tried to bargain with the company that owns King Arthur to let me at least _borrow_ the knights, but it was a no go. Sorry folks, just my characters that I own.

Author's Note: Wow, thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! I'm probably going to add a few awkward moments between Galahad and Aurora, but not before a major part in their relationship, maybe a little something else, we'll see. I hope you had fun reading, don't forget to read and review! And, sorry for the long agonizing (I hope) wait for this chapter, I've sort of been in a state of writers block and moved onto writing a few other stories but I have every intention of finishing this one! Don't worry about that. Just a little forewarning: there will be an **R rated scene **in this chapter, I already know that Shannon will skip over it, but it would be funny imagining her face reading it though. So, if you don't want to read that, I'll warn you and do something to tell you where to skip.

Common Ground

Chapter 6

The blood red sun was setting to the west, and Aurora still wasn't back yet. Tristan was starting to get worried. Earlier in the day, Galahad had asked him a few questions about Aurora and why she left in such a hurry. It seemed to him as though he was starting to fancy her, he would definitely have to watch out if he was. After everything that had happened to her, he wasn't about to let her go without a fight.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of hooves approaching. It was Aurora returning, looking absolutely shaken up with excitement. Everyone gathered around her as best they could with horses and she told them what she had found.

"There is a small camp of Jutes not far from us, we could launch a surprise attack and send warning to the leaders." She tried to steady her horse, but he was just as excited at the idea of death and hurting people as she was.

"It is not within dignity and pride to propose a sneak attack on the enemy, we must let them know that we are coming so that we may kill them fairly." Arthur mused.

"Did I say sneak attack? I said surprise attack, there is a difference." She paused to let this sink in. "We will send Iseult, Tristan's bird into the sky to find them and let them know that an intruder is coming and that they should prepare for battle." Arthur seemed to consider this for a moment before answering.

"Yes, I suppose." He decided.

"They are just coming to kill us anyway." She pushed into his head, and then drove the final nail. "Would you risk the lives of all your knights involved because you wanted to wait till morning to see what would happen?" At this, Arthur had no choice but to agree with her, and Tristan's hawk was immediately sent into the air above their heads, aching to be in the sky, eager for the fight to come.

The men suited up in armor and laden with weapons of every fashion imaginable, trudged off through the woods, at first on horseback until they were closer, then they would head in on foot. Tristan tried to speak to Aurora again at this point. It was not always good to go into a dangerous battle with anger in mind.

"I apologize for not telling you about the mission." He stated rather quickly. It took her a moment to acknowledge him.

"As you think it is your duty to protect me, it is also the same for me. The truth is, neither of us need protection from the likes of family, we are both full grown, and you a knight. I do not need your strength behind me, I know that you feel you must, but I am quite capable of fighting my own battles, now, brother."

"You are still a child, and a few years back, you were not able to defend yourself against-" She cut him off.

"You have made it quite clear that you do not need me anymore, and so I do not need you, Tristan." At that precise moment, his heart, which he thought could never love anybody broke into pieces, he loved Aurora, and hearing her say that, tore him apart. He would always need her. A tear started to well in his black eyes. She rode off to Arthur and told him to tell his men to stand down and travel on foot from here on out, weapons drawn for battle. Seconds after saying this, a man came silently out of the forest and tried to attack Arthur. Before he even knew, Aurora had slit his throat and he lay gurgling at her feet, not quite dead yet. She stepped on his stomach to get over him and he gurgled again painfully.

"Search the surrounding forests." Arthur ordered and nodded his thanks to Aurora. There were no other men hiding in the thick trees around them and soon they came to a wide clearing in the forest. Many men waited there, expecting them, and waiting for a fight. Without word to each other, both sides plunged into battle. Aurora was not the only one to use the horse hair tactic. A burly man came up behind her while she was busy fighting three others. He tightened the hair in his hands around her neck and began half strangling her, half slitting her throat. The other men grabbed her swords from her hands and pushed her to the ground, pinning her there. Tristan was keeping a close eye on her, and a good thing. He saw her go down and moved to help, but he couldn't get there fast enough. The man had stopped strangling her, and the other men used more horse hairs twisted thickly into a sort of thin rope to tie her hands together, knowing that it was painful and that she would be stupid to try to get loose from them. All fighting around them stopped, every face looking towards the men holding Aurora in place. Galahad had a pained expression on his face. Tristan was pale, and looked as though he were ready to keel over. The rest just looked shocked that they had managed to capture her.

"We will stop fighting now!" Yelled a heavily accented voice from in front of the men and Aurora.

"You have killed our best scouts, and sent us back their markings. An insult to our people!" He spat on the ground. Everyone turned to Tristan, now they knew what he was doing in that forest with their bodies. "Now, to be even, we will kill one of your best fighters. That will make up for it and you can go on your way." Aurora didn't struggle with her bonds, they were already cutting deeply into her wrists. She looked at Tristan, who looked back at her, knowing what he must do. Swiftly, and so that no one saw, he pulled out his bow and arrow and aimed for Aurora's abdomen. He knew he had to be completely accurate, and if he got out of this, hitting his mark, and not his sister, he would start to pray again. Gawaine looked over and his face went rigid with fear.

_He doesn't want his sister to go out this way. He's going to kill her!_

Aurora closed her eyes and breathed deep, sensing every movement around her. She felt her neck being jerked back again, and a sword tip making its way into her throat, just enough so that no one thought they were joking. She took another deep breath. Suddenly, what she was waiting for came, the pang of a bowstring. Immediately, she threw her body to the right, towards the man holding the sword, so that she was almost facing the opposite way she was facing to begin with. In a rush, she felt a whooshing arrow fly by her bleeding wrists and they were cut free. She didn't have time to think how lucky she was, but reached inside her dress and found a dagger hidden in her bosom. The man holding the sword in his hand now had the dagger in his forehead. She reached inside and found another, the man to her left now hand it in his heart. From her abdomen, she reached on either side with the opposite hand and found cutlasses to fight with. Soon, the fight was back on, and spurred by this outrageous act of hostility, the small pack of Jutes that were left, were on the ground, painfully awaiting the arrival of the mistress, Death.

Everyone slumped back to their horses, Tristan and Aurora falling behind in the field to have a few words; only, they were words that only they could understand, silent words of forgiveness on both parts. They grabbed each other in a vice grip hold and would not let go, thankful that they would see another day with each other.

That night, Aurora sat by the fire, awaiting her turn to get cleaned up and healed by Dagonet. She decided it could wait till morning and for a quick fix, took her flask of water and cleaned the congealed blood from her neck, wrists and face. Her hands her still bleeding from trying to stop the man from strangling her with the horse hair but she poured a little bit of the stored ale on it, trying to clean out the wound. It stung horribly, but she showed no sign. She drank what was left in the bottle, which was a good portion and stood, leaving the bottle behind, to find herself a place of calmness, where she could think and be at piece. Galahad watched her silently. Then, after a few moments of thinking about it and what he had to lose, he followed her.

Aurora heard twigs snapping behind her, judging by the light sound they made, it was Galahad, coming to find her, for what she didn't know. He sat down beside her and didn't say anything for a while. Then he spoke his mind, also having consumed a bit of ale that night.

"I'm glad you are alright." He said awkwardly.

"Yes." Was all she said back. "You looked frightened." She allowed herself a small smile.

"I was afraid I would lose you." Galahad let slip, then mentally rebuked himself for doing so, but she seemed to take it in stride.

"You need not worry, I will never leave you." She looked into his orb-like eyes that seemed to shine on her. A few seconds passed by, and Galahad did another rather bold act that he did not necessarily wish to physically do. He leaned over to her and pressed his lips to hers. She pulled back at first, but after the initial shock, returned it.

**This would be the part that some may want to skip. If not, tell me what you think.**

Galahad deepened the kiss, pushing her up against the tree beside her, pressing his body in on her. She did not retreat, so he continued his pursuit. He put his tongue into the kiss, exploring the taste and caverns of her mouth. It was a cool night, but quickly becoming warm. He pushed her onto the ground beside the tree, running his hands up and down her curvaceous body. He moved his lips over her bosom, kissing every piece of skin that was not covered by her dress. He pulled the dress above her waist and felt her legs beneath him. He took the green dress completely off and threw it aside. A moan escaped her lips, she wasn't able to hide her excitement. Keeping her bloodied hands above her, he began to massage between her legs, letting his fingers slip in and out of her. Her breathing became heavy and ragged. He felt himself harden. He moved his lips over her breasts, sucking on them, savoring their taste in his mouth. He bit her hard, she didn't move, though he knew it hurt her. She ran her hands along his back and tangled them in his curly brown hair. She began to take off his tunic, feeling the scars from battles long passed. She raked her fingernails along his back, leaving long scratches. Blood smeared on his back from her hands' open wounds. His lips found the cavity between her legs, letting his tongue explore her regions, his teeth nipping playfully at her flesh. A groan of yearning came from his throat and he felt her shudder beneath him in motion with his body. Galahad fumbled with his pants. Trying to free himself of them. His hard masculinity was between her thighs now, aching to get inside her. He launched himself forward, as he did so, he plunged inside her, encountering no barrier to her innocence.

**That was the end, don't forget to comment... hehe**

He stopped moving inside her, stopped kissing her. Both still breathing raggedly. He sat up, away from her, pushing his curly hair out of his eyes. He stood, pulling his clothing back on, throwing his tunic over his head.

"What's wrong?" She asked, sitting up, puzzled by his abrupt stop to their pleasure. She picked up her dress and held it over her body while trying to talk to Galahad.

"Galahad, what is it? Is there something wrong?" She touched his arm and he wrenched it out of her grasp.

"What's wrong? Why didn't-" He began, as with a few more sentences before he could get what he was trying to say out of his mouth. "You have already been taken! You are spoiled merchandise, now!" He breathed at her, trying to keep his voice down. Despite her efforts to keep them hidden, tears began to glide softly down her flushed cheeks.

"That's it? I was nothing more than merchandise to you, something to buy, trade and use to your own advantage?"

She slipped the dress over her head, Galahad looking in the other direction, infuriated with himself for getting so caught up in the moment and believing that he had a chance with her.

Wiping the tears from her face, she walked out into the clearing and announced that she would be leaving the knights and journeying home. She could not stay there. Without letting them comment, she jumped onto her horse and galloped hard into the night, tears falling fresh on her dress in front of her.


	7. Aurora's Secrets Revealed

1

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur, ro his knights, but... mahahaha, till someone can prove me wrong, I own the Round Table... HA! My evil plan... I may not own the Knights yet... BUT WHERE ARE THEY GOING TO SIT! ON THE GROUND! I THINK NOT! laughs evil and rubs hands together.

Chapter Seven

As the knights watch in shock as Aurora rides off into the darkness, Galahad stumbles into the clearing, his hair tousled and his tunic half hanging out of his trousers, a crestfallen look upon his face.

Tristan looked at him, a look of anger and hatred in his eyes, but it was mixed with something else, something only he could identify: fear. He didn't know that there was still a man alive that could hurt his sister. He had raped her. He lunged at Galahad, reaching for his sword that was back in its rightful place in the holder on his back. Galahad also pulled out his sword, and they began to duel, Tristan quickly outstanding Galahad with his skill, style, and wisdom. Galahad was lying on the ground and about to be given the final slash when out of no where, Bors did a flying tackle. Only Gawaine held Galahad while the rest jumped on Tristan, pinning his writhing body to the ground. Eventually, he didn't fight back, only glared. Slowly, all the knights got up, leaving him to sit up, and then stand. He threw hi sword aside and walked calmly into the woods, staring at Galahad, who hesitated momentarily and then followed at a distance.

Tristan was leaning on a tree, his icy stare never faltering on Galahad's stature. After a moment he spoke.

"Why?" Tristan was visibly shaking with anger, Galahad had never seen his composure so broken. It frightened him to be in the clearing alone with him, but knew that he must.

"It was both of us, you know, I didn't force her." His voice sounded bitter, which wasn't helping his case.

"Then why did she run? Why would she be crying if it was with her consent?" He gripped a tree branch and it snapped.

"She ran because I was angry. I stopped." He paused. "She isn't as pure as you think she is, Tristan."

"Listen carefully, Galahad. I am going to tell you something from Aurora's past. She is going to be angry with me for telling you." He let go of the crumbled tree branch and sat on the ground. Across from him in the clearing, he could see the spot of earth that was stirred and leaves were turned up. He looked away, a pang of fear in his heart:Before I became a knight, when I was still a young child back home, I was working on the estate of a rich man with my father. Aurora was only four, she couldn't help us much. Though, this day, she was in the stables, cleaning out the stalls for the horses. I saw my father speaking to a Roman guard who had come to the gate. I knew he was trying to sell him something, so that he could get more money to spend on drink and pleasurable company. I saw them shake hands, but I didn't watch long enough to see what was sold. I moved closer to the main house, working the crops. Not long passed when I heard Aurora screaming from the stables. I ran as quickly as I could to the stables, when I was inside, the Roman was hitting her. She was naked, blood was running down her legs. She was trying to hide from him in the hay. She called to me when she saw me, she was sobbing. When the man saw me, he ran past me and out of the yard. I was going to go after him, murder him, but Aurora needed me. I grabbed a horse blanket off the hook on the wall and wrapped her in it. I looked for her tunic, it was lying in shreds on the ground on the other side of the stables. She put her arms around my neck, she has never held onto me so tightly in her life. I picked her up and found a lilac flower outside, she loved the smell of it and I knew it would come her down. I took her up to the main house, the lady had a certain fondness for her and would take care of her." Tristan paused to let this sink in. "That very day, I was shipped to Rome and was trained to become a knight. I hadn't seen my sister since that day. I will never forget the face of that man, and when I find him, I will kill him." He picked up a twig on the earthy floor and snapped it for effect. It made Galahad unconsciously jump. He was mouthing soundlessly, his breathing was shallow, and his eyes tearing.

"I should not have jumped to that conclusion, I have made a terrible mistake. I knew I should have just asked her, I need to find her." He jumped off the ground and headed for his horse. Halting, he turned to talk to Tristan again. "Do I have your permission?" For a split second, Tristan's non-chalant mask was cracked and he showed surprise, bit in the blink of an eye, it was gone, and replaced with his usual cynical stare. He simply said, "Aurora had no form of weapons on her, find her." With that, Galahad was gone, jumping onto his horse and galloping away, without looking back.

In his head, Tristan felt like he should be the one going to find her, he should be comforting her, but he knew he had to stop being so over protective, otherwise she would keep pulling away from him. In his heart, she knew she wasn't his little sister anymore, she didn't need protecting.

Aurora stopped by a stream, an hours hard riding from the camp. She was tired and planned to stay there the night. The tears finally stopped flowing, her eyes puffy and swollen. Her horse was tired and resting by the stream, drinking up its cool water. She began to gather apples from the trees in the grove. The apples were cold and hard, frozen with the fast approaching frost. She shivered. She left in such a hurry that she forgot she left her cloak by the fire to let the blood soaked into it dry.

Hooves pounded along the path behind her, putting her on her guard. Aurora searched for her blades hidden along her body, but remembered that they were all used in the fight and so took them off to be polished later. She was weaponless. She had to improvise. She picked up the apples she had collected earlier and hid behind a large tree in the grove. She now figured that it was Galahad coming after her and knew she only needed to shots. He rode into the clearing, his horse puffing out clouds of breath to match his own. He looked around, seeing her horse standing near the water's edge. He knew she was in the area.

An apple whipped at him from behind a tree, hitting him square between the eyes, making them water. That shooting apple had the force of a strong punch from a powerful man, and the accuracy he knew only Tristan could muster. This blow took him by surprise and he let out a strangled yelp as he toppled off his horse. Staggering to his feet, another apple flew from behind the same tree, this time, coming quite a bit lower than his eyes. Another cry of pain escaped his lips, excruciating torture burst into life in his groin, making it harder for him to stop the tears flowing from his eyes. His knees buckled and he clung to the reigns of his horse to stay upright. Very painfully, he managed to speak.

"Aurora, how do you do that?" A voice came from behind the tree directly in front of him.

"I aim for the middle." Her voice sounded very hoarse and scratchy. Aurora moved into the open and toward her horse, trying to leave. Galahad grabbed her arm in a vice like grip, making sure she couldn't escape it. She tried to wrench her arm free and ripped open the wounds around her wrist again. They open under his calloused hand, and he felt the hot searing blood dripping from his grasp.

"Let go." She ordered.

"Wait, please give me a chance to apologize, to explain." He wobbled oddly as she walked, struggling against his grip. "Just wait! I know what happened." This made her whip around and face him in confusion, he lost his tight grip on her arm. "Tristan told me what happened to you when you were a little girl. He said you would be mad for telling me but he said I had to know." He tried to make the situation a little more lighthearted. "Which explains why you hate every Roman you see and possess a deep and passionate hatred for them." He tried to smile, but it felt odd and out of place, so he stopped.

"He should not have told you that." Her voice shook with a mixture of controlled anger and the ever possible threat of tears burning in her eyes.

"He said you would be angry." He stated again.

"He had no right to give away my secrets." She paused to wipe her wrist on her dress, staining the beautiful green material red. "What must you think of me now, Galahad? Not only am I 'spoiled merchandise', but I am 'spoiled _Roman_ merchandise'. " She turned her back to him so that he would not see the tears silently flowing down her flushed cheeks. "He did not have the right to tell you about my past." She struggled to keep her voice calm.

"But you would not have told me, and if that had happened, I would still be angry at you, I would not be apologizing with all my heart." Aurora stayed silent. "Please do not stay mad at him, he only did it to help us." He put his hands on her hips, turning her to face him, gently kissing the tears off her face, wrapping his strong arms around her tiny, lithe body. "I will never forget those horrible words that I said to you and I will spend the rest of my life making them up to you in every way possible. He kissed her soft lips. "Showing you just how much I love you and want to be with you, in every sense of the word." Together, they moved backwards, leaning on a tree, apples falling all around them.

The kiss was becoming more passionate, her cool skin becoming warmer with his touch. Galahad had a way of crumbling the walls around Aurora's heart, the walls that took her so long to build up. When he kissed her, even touched her, everything else vanished. Her alertness to the world around her was now gone. He ran his hands up and down her back, caressing her gently, all the time, pulling the skirt of her dress up with his hands. Behind the big tree, a twig snapped, and Aurora's normally sharp mind ground into gear a moment to slow. A hand clasped tightly around her throat and pinned her to the tree. She gasped harshly, trying to breathe. Opening her eyes, she saw that the hand and arm attached to her throat were coming from behind the tree, making it impossible for her to free herself. When Galahad had realized what was going on, it was too late for him too. Men grabbed him, holding his hands in an awkward position behind his back., pulling at his hair to make him cooperate.

Aurora's vision was clouding, the corners were turning black, She felt the pressure on her throat lessen and she was forced forward, her hands being held behind her back in the same awkward position. Finally the pressure was gone and Aurora breathed in and out, trying to get air to her brain. This was too much for her to handle with the pressure that remained on her throat while it was trying to breathe was too much and she slipped into darkness. The last thing she heard was Galahad screaming her name and a filthy rag being shoved in his mouth.

Author's Note: So, tell me what you thought! Kind of a short chapter, but I'm biding my time. If anyone is interested, I'm putting up a test chapter for Harry Potter in the near future, so if you are interested, keep your eyes peeled. **Please R&R!** Luv ya!


	8. The Wrath of God

1

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or any of the characters of the movie or the actual story of King Arthur and His Knights, but I will someday. Especially Tristan! drools over keyboard.

Author's Note: I'm sorry it took me so long to write this next chapter, even though it was Christmas holidays I was having a bit of a block. But, as promised, here is the next chapter. Honestly, I would love some more reviews, tell me if you hated it, I don't care, if you find a major grammatical error or just an error of some kind, let me know. I'll do my best to fix it. I also welcome opinions and thoughts of what could happen next, sometimes I need ideas, and if you give me permission to use your idea, then I will make sure you are dually noted for it. Please and thank you. :P I'm trying to be all smart sounding, is it working? Or am I just pseudo- intellectual?

Chapter 8

Aurora awoke to the steady rocking of a moving caravan. She tried to move but soon realized she was tied to the side of it, her hands twisted into an uncomfortable position. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the heap of tanned skin that was Galahad, carelessly dumped on the floor of the wagon. Something stirred outside on the ledge and a man walked into the dimly lit prison, checking on them no less.

She did not know whether she was surprised that the man was wearing Roman garb, instead of what she supposed would have been Saxon pelts. He knelt in front of her, noticing that she was awake, looking her over hungrily.

"Caught in an entertaining position, were you not?" A dirty, crooked smile played across his lips, and she spat at him, disgusted. He back-handed her quickly and her vision swam, but she did not show it. Before she could recover, she felt searing pain as he twisted her wrists in the knotted rope to sit at a position that she could hardly move at all in. Hot crimson blood dripped softly onto the fur pelt on the floor. The man ran his hand over her shoulder, sliding the strap off as he did so, exposing half of her breast. He grinned again, at the bite marks and bruises that lay there. He leaned in closer, biting lustfully at her shoulder. Ideas raised through her mind quickly. Each one, less likely than the last, until she decided that the first idea was best. Over his head, she saw his leg, parallel to the floor, but the foot resting firmly on the other wall of the caravan. His knee was close to her, she managed to unpin her leg from under him and mustered all the strength she had left, aiming at his kneecap. Under her blow, she felt a sickening, blood-surging crunch, and his knee moved back a few inches, shattering. He screamed in terrible pain and fell completely to the floor. Another Roman who was outside on the ledge heard the commotion and came to investigate. When he saw what had happened, he kicked the side of her head and she slipped into oblivion.

When Aurora awoke for the second time, she was thrown over a man's shoulder and being hauled into a cell. Galahad was beside her, being dragged by his arms along the floor into the cell next to her own. Galahad regained consciousness as he was pulled into his cell and tried to fight the men off but failed al too quickly. They were locked in. Aurora wanted to see what was happening and so forced herself to stand and look through the tiny window in the door, holding herself up on the metal bars until she stopped being dizzy.

An audible whispered conversation was being held between the guards and Bishop Germanius, who had just entered off a separate hallway. She was not surprised to see him.

"These two were found in the grove a little ways from here. They were..." The guard speaking leaned in close to hush the next words to the holy man. He sighed and crossed himself, disgusted at the behavior. He thinks carefully for the moment, no doubt for the best option of punishment for them both. He knows that if harms Galahad, then Arthur and the other knights of the Round Table will be after him and the Church. If he harms Aurora, then Tristan will come after him, and he has the fury of an entire army. In the end, he asks for the help of God in this situation. He makes his final decision.

"Have the girl whipped, so as to be a reminder, of the way the Messiah suffered, this will put her on the path of God, and convince her to leave behind her filthy pagan values. Have the knight beaten, so that he knows that he cannot defy the Will of God. He has been living under the watchful eye of the omnipotent Savior for fifteen years and still he behaves like a savage, he will be punished for this heresy."

First they take Galahad from his cell, fighting the whole way, screaming that if they hurt Aurora, he would personally see to Germanius' death. Once Aurora could no longer hear Galahad, the guards appeared again, taking her away. A guard was placed on either side of her, gripping her arms tightly, but there was no need. She went calmly enough. She believed that Tristan and her friends would be coming for her soon. Although it was her moment of greatest peril, she could not help but stop and think as she mentioned the knights as her friends. She had never had any before. It was a comfort in a world on hate. She was entering a room full of rich aristocrats, who had no doubt paid their way into heaven and the Church. If she was considered a pagan to this so called "God", then these men and woman were heathens of their own religious belief system.

Germanius stood in front of this audience and addressed them comfortably.

"Friends, neighbors, though we have come together for serious conversation, we seem to have a bit of entertainment on our hands. This pagan girl, a sister to a Knight of the Round Table, was caught in the act of making love, out of wedlock, to another of the Knights of the Round Table." At the mention of this, the entire audience scoffed crossed themselves in the same way Germanius had. "She will be whipped, to remind her of the Savior and his sufferings." There were many nods and smiles around the room. "The knight, will be beaten, to keep him on the straight path to God, and not the path to the fiery depths of hell where all pagans will end their final days." The crowd clapped and Germanius waved a hand superiorly at them.

Galahad was in a holding chamber just off main hall where everyone was gathered and could hear everything that was going on. He hears the rattling of chains, and the click of the lock that chained them to her wrists, heard a whip crack, expected to hear her fall, but nothing, just the cheer of the holy Roman's in the audience (a contradiction in itself- a holy Roman). Whips are cracked again and again, every crack made him flinch, knowing what the tail was making contact with. Finally, he heard a dull, meaty thud as her body hit the floor and a loud cheer erupted from the hall. Several more whips were cracked until Germanius gave the call for her to be thrown back in her cell. He lets a single tear streak his dirty face, wanting, wishing, for her to be alright when he was back in the cell.

The guard in front of the door of the chamber moved to unlock it and more men file in to take him into the hall. He is placed in the middle of the marble floor, amid specks and large droplets of Aurora's blood. He looked at the whips at the belts of the guards that were standing in waiting, blood splattering silently on the floor.

Without any sort of warning, a man comes from behind him, striking him over the head with the handle of his sword. Because he heard him coming, he managed to save himself most of that blow, standing to fight a personal battle. Men came at him from every which way, it was all he could do to throw his fists in the air and hope he hit something. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, his heavy staggered breathing. He knew he could not win this fight. There were too many. He knew that when help arrived, he would make sure that all of these men received payment for their wrong doings, not to himself, but to the woman he loved. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath, a well aimed kick found his chest, knocking the little air he had, out of him, fists and feet reigning down on him from everywhere. He gave in to the temptation of darkness, quiet, the last thing he heard was the sound of wild clapping and cheering as everything faded to black. He knew, even though he could not fight back anymore, the beating would continue until Germanius called them off.

Aurora sat in the open space of the room, it was filled with moldy hay, rats, and what looked like old decaying bones. The sun coming from the barred window shining down on her bloody crossed back. Just having a tunic over it was almost unbearable, and she wept, but not for herself, for Galahad, who was unceremoniously dumped back into his cell after his beating. She could not understand why another human being was extracting all of these emotions from her. She did not like it, it made her vulnerable. There was nothing she could do about it in her current state, all she could do was wait for her little bit of hope to arrive. As she fell asleep, faintly, she could hear the sounds of the entrance hall doors being banged open, but all was lost in a world of exhausted sleep.

Author's Note: Ok, kind of a short chapter, but I need the time. There will probably be a big jump from this part to the next, so don't expect a fight scene. Do you think this story is getting boring? That is how I'm starting to feel, I'm trying to search for ways to spice things up a bit, but I'm not quite sure... crosses arms and sips on diet gingerale


	9. One Death Too Many

1Disclaimer: Tra La La, it's my life. Anyway, down to business, I do not own any character associated with King Arthur, but I do in fact own any character that appears in this story, and not in the movie.

Author's Note: Ok, here is the ninth chapter. I actually did not expect to have it done so quickly, but I started writing it and I got a little bit caught up in it. In this chapter, Tristan will get a little bit out of character, dealing with his emotions, I hope I did him justice.

Common Ground

Chapter 9

Germanius began to continue with his business, talking with the crowd around him. The entrance hall doors were thrown open, banging against the wall with an almighty shake. Without stopping to be invited in, Arthur, followed by his men walked quickly and stiffly, stopping in front of Germanius, rage pulsing through every muscle in their bodies.

"Artorius, what is the meaning of this?" He looked angry, but had a slight note of amusement in his voice.

"Where are they?" Arthur seethed.

"I do not understand." He laughed. Gawain, standing right behind Arthur spoke.

"Galahad and Aurora, we know they were taken here, so where are they?"

"I thought they were with you. I have not seen them since you left. Arthur, really, you should keep a better I on your men, they are probably off somewhere in the woods, doing something they should not be." Germanius looked defiant. Tristan, also right behind Arthur, and looking as though he could make a man drop dead with his glare, spoke in a calm but shaking voice.

"A Bishop such as yourself should not tell a lie, Germanius." He began to walk closer toward him, making Germanius back away. "Do not place Arthur or myself as a fool. You know it will be the last thing you ever did." Germanius made a bold move and laughed in Tristan's face, mocking him. Tristan whistled, and through the open door soared his hawk, angry with indignation, piercing the air with her screams of rage. It dived at Germanius, pecking at his head. He began to yell and, scared for his life, ducked for cover. The men around the room pulled swords from belts and grabbed anything sharp to use against Tristan. Immediately, a fight broke out as Arthur and his men protected Tristan.

The glint of metal and the spray of scarlet was all that could be seen. The knights, enraged, were slashing and killing at their best. Germanius was coming at Tristan, arms raised, a shining cutlass in his hands. Tristan waited, a smile of play befalling his lips, one that had not been there since long ago in his childhood. He raised his sword, clashing it to the bishops cutlass, and before the cutlass fell to the floor, Tristan had slashed his two-edged sword through Germanius, cutting him from shoulder to somewhere in his mid region on the other side. He fell to the floor in two masses of mangled body, eyes still opened and frightened, surprised. As a final insult to the dead, Tristan made the sign of the cross on himself. The glint of inconceivable fury in his eyes was frightening, so terrifying that even the other knights stayed as far away from him as possible so as not to accidentally get their head lobbed off. He moved through the crowd, killing in one single, quick movement, his sword nothing but a blur, cutting through flesh and muscle.

The fight was over, Arthur and the men, separated by a sea of massacred bodies, simply looked at each other, tired and breathing hard. Arthur took a moment to look around him, found the holy garments of the bishop, covered in blood, buried under bits appendages and torso.

"Which one of you killed Germanius?" Everyone looked from one another, and then at Tristan, the only one who had a slight smile on his face again, a dangerous smile that scared the others.

"Tristan, you killed a bishop, a man of God, and not to mention, he was the man who could give us our freedom." Arthur sniped moodily.

"I thought Christians lived forever. If his God really loved him, he would still be alive." He sloshed through the sea of blood and skin to find Aurora and Galahad, the others hesitating, then following him, slipping and sliding down the hallways, trying to listen for any signs of movement.

Hallway after hallway, they checked every room, and found nothing. Tristan was walking faster now, breathing heavier, barely keeping his calm composure.

"Aurora!" He half yelled, getting desperate.

"Over here." Came Galahad's weal voice from a cell off too the right just up ahead. They rushed over, Gawain breaking the lock with his axe. Tristan looked into the cell just past Galahad, saw Aurora lying on the hay, her back bloody and the flash torn.

"Bors." Was all he said, and moved out of the way for him. Bors raised a mighty arm, and let it come hailing down on the lock, his brass knuckles crashing against the lock and knocking it from the hinge. Tristan pushed passed him and into the cell and the door swung open.

Aurora could feel her brother there. She knew she was dreaming of her rescue, the knights standing in the doorway, Galahad being supported by Gawain and Dagonet, his face and body bloodied and bruised until it was unrecognizable., and Tristan, on the floor next to her, examining her wounds. He threw an old blanket from the corner over her and picked her up, taking her out of this evil place. _He's still here for me. Just like when I was little._ The dream ended.

The knights parted as Tristan walked slowly by them, making his way out of the building, Aurora carried gently in his arms. As they passed through the entrance hall and out into the cloudy, gloomy afternoon, Aurora awoke, catching glimpses of blood and carnage, knowing that Galahad and herself were now safe.

Bors led the way to his home, and Vanora and the children came rushing out, surprised that they were home so soon from their journey. Then she saw Aurora and Galahad and the meeting quickly turned serious, the children were sedated and the story was explained as Vanora mended cuts and healed wounds of all kinds.

After Tristan was sure that both Aurora and Galahad would be alright, he left the house, wanting to be on his own. He slunk quietly into the woods just a little ways down the road and sat in a little treeless clearing. He began to lose himself in his thoughts. He thought of how close he was to losing his only family, the one he cared most about. How he almost lost one of his friends and comrades as well. He would have easily and most willingly given his life to save theirs. As long as he lived, he would protect every he cared about, even if it killed him. He knew that the knights thought that he didn't care for anyone and enjoyed killing anything he could get his hands on, but he cared about them. They were the only friends he had ever known, and though they made fun of him, and were sometimes a little jealous of him, he knew he cared for them. They were a big family, one that had to stay together no matter what. They had lost so many to enemies already, they could to lose no more.

A rustling close behind where he was sitting started him. Before he gave the intruder a chance to explain themselves, he lunged at them. If only he had realized who it was before it was too late. A small boy stood gasping where he stood, a sword protruding from his chest. He recognized it as one of Bors'. The boy fell to the earthy floor and collapsed, dead.

"No, no, no," Tristan pulled his sword out, mumbling dismally. "No..." He sat next to the boy, leaning over him. He began to cry, racking sobs claimed his body. He no longer wanted to live. He realized what an awful person he was, how much he hated himself. How much Bors and Vanora would hate him. The family that he would try to protect was over before he had even had a chance to try. He sat there, crying, until he could feel the boy growing cold. He watched as the sun began to dip behind the trees, and knew that now, he must go back, face Bors, look into Vanora's eyes, and see the pain. He picked up his sword, looping it in his belt, and lifted the small boy in his arms. He made his way down the hill and back toward the house.

He kicked the door open gently with his foot, everyone turning to look at him as he entered. For a moment, it was silent, and he looked around. Galahad was there, sitting at the table, Aurora was still in the other room, he was glad she was not there to see what had become of her murderer of a brother. So full of hate that he would kill a little boy.

Tears welled in Vanora's eyes and she rushed forward, cradling the boy's head. For Bors, it took a little longer to register, he just kept looking at the sword, and then back at his boy. He was struggling to speak.

"Gilly..." Was all he could managed in a grunt, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At this, Vanora began to weep uncontrollably. Shaking all over as she took the boy from Tristan's arms.

Bors looked at Tristan, would not look away, his eyes angry and uncomprehending. All he could do was yell.

"You killed my boy!" He stood up. "I'm going to kill you!" He rushed at Tristan, grabbing his axe from the table. Tristan made no attempt to fight back, just stood there, tears still streaking his grimy face. The other knights jumped on Bors, grabbing at his clothing, doing anything to keep him from hurting Tristan, or perhaps were they worried that Tristan would hurt him. He kept yelling and crying, trying to escape from the men who had fistfuls of his tunic.

"I am sorry, Bors, Vanora." Everything went quieter so that he could be heard. "I did not know it was him." He began to cry harder again. "I am sorry."

"We sent him looking for you because we were worried, and you kill him?" Tristan could think of no other sentiments to express his sorrow for their boy, and decided it was best that he leave. He laid his sword on the ground, along with his bow and arrows, and closed the door behind him.

By this time, someone had taken the horses to the stables and he found his where his usual stall was. He moved to Aurora's horse right next to his and stood patting its snout for a moment. He wished he could say goodbye to Aurora, but knew he could no longer be in her presence, at least not right now. He began digging inside his tunic and pulled out a locket, it was his mother's. She had given it to him, to be sure that Aurora would get it when she was older, and he intended to give it to her now. He did not care if she figured out who it was from, or who it came from specifically, just that she should have it. He placed it on a hook of the saddle and moved back to his horse, jumping onto him, and kicking him into a gallop and he burst out of the stable and to the end of the little post's main road leading out of town at top speed.

Author's Note: Well, there you are, chapter nine. I hope it was satisfying. But now, for some food, because I am soooo hungry. I hope you enjoyed the story so far. :) -Alyssa


	10. Amandus and Cassia

1Disclaimer: Ok, so I unfortunately do not own any of the knights, or anything to do with King Arthur, nor do I know anyone who does own them.

Author's Note: You know, I just realized how much I actually do not sit up straight, I'm going to be one of those crippled little old ladies who slips on ice and breaks her hip, or damages her hump or something. LOL! That would be me. HA! Anyway, more to do with the story. I was at a bit of a writer's block, so, I apologize if the last two chapters were really boring. I have had this idea in my head for a very long time, and it didn't occur to me that I could use it in this story. And no, it may seem like this is a mary sue, but it is not.

Common Ground

Chapter 10

It had been two months since the knights had last heard of Tristan. Bors had had a chance to cool his temper, and was sad that he acted the way he did towards Tristan. He kept looking back on that day, remembering how sorry Tristan was, remembered him crying. Then he remembered his reaction. He was the only reason that he had left. If they didn't hear from him in another week, they would look for him.

Galahad had healed completely, and was walking around Hadrian's Wall, romancing the woman, but never touching them, it was Aurora he wanted. He wanted to find Tristan, saw what it was doing to Aurora, how she missed him. It was hard for anyone to tell, but every so often, one of the men would catch her in the stables, sleeping in his horse's stable, waiting.

Aurora's back and other wounds were healed and she was in the tavern with the men, not drinking, but having a good enough time. She was having a throwing contest with a set of knives and an upturned table. She was playing against Galahad, and Gawain, and was winning by a long shot, while everyone watched. A bar wench sitting on Lancelot's lap was laughing, and a little drunk herself, she couldn't stop giggling, what with fighting Lancelot's prying hands away, and what he was whispering to her.

"She's almost as good as that other knight who ain't here no more!" She laughed. Aurora was throwing a shot, and instead of its original target (on top of Galahad's), it went into the post that the table was leaning on, right beside Dagonet, who didn't flinch back, but stared at the maid. The pub seemed to quiet, many faces turning cold, glaring at the girl. She immediately stopped laughing. Lancelot pushed her out of his lap and took a long swig of his ale, while the men slowly began to get back to their game. Aurora went to retrieve her knife.

"Sorry, Dag." She apologized. He simply nodded and turned to face in the other direction. She threw again, and this time, her shot was on, and it pierced the handle of Galahad's. He simply shook his head, and let Gawain move forward for his throw.

Arthur entered the pub, having taken on his religious duties as well as military for the time being until a new bishop could arrive. A scrawling letter lay in his hand by his side. A serious look graced his young, weathered features, making him look years older than he was.

"Men, I must speak with you all." The townsfolk hushed, it was not often that they got to listen in on official business from Rome. "A man that I know, a Roman man," He clarified, most grumbled. "Has recently acquired a prisoner, a pagan, who has a companion, in hawk form." There was an excited shuffle among the crowd. "He will not say much, he will not convert to Christianity, but he will not be let go, if he does not." They all knew what this meant. A collective shiver ran through the crowd.

"What will we do about it?" Asked Bors.

"I will travel to meet this man." Arthur answered. "Galahad and Aurora will be making the journey with me, not only for protection, but because it will look suspicious to him if I arrive on my own, it will make sense if there is people I would like him to meet."

"It must be Galahad and I because why? He will throw us in jail as well." Arthur simply smiled at Aurora.

"Oh, and Bors and Vanora as well. We will definitely need her help. We leave at first light and travel until we arrive there."

A week later, a fine looking carriage, fit for Arthur's status pulled into the pathway in front of Alexander Devangius' big house. A tall, thin man came out of the main doors to greet Arthur as he stepped out of the carriage. He mumbled behind him.

"Bors, Vanora, remember, stay hidden until we are inside the house." A grunt and a soft agreement came from the benches, underneath which, instead of luggage, was two fully grown adults, waiting, listening for what was happening. After Arthur stepped out, he turned to see Galahad walk swiftly from the caravan, his head bowed slightly, lest he should hit it on the roof of the contraption. He was clean, still with beard, but his skin was clean, and his garb was new and fresh, Roman colors, royal colors. He stood on the opposite side of the carriage door from Arthur, and both he and Arthur raised a hand to help Aurora from the step. A dainty shoed foot landed softly and gracefully on the graveled ground, its owner, dressed in a beautiful purple dress, a cape of the same color trailing behind her, both trimmed in gold. Her hair was curled and some of it put up, the tattoos that swept her cheeks had vanished, and she was clean. "Remember, you two are husband and wife, you are royalty." Galahad did not have time to mumble back, for Alexander was already there to greet them.

"Artorius, how nice to see you again, and so soon after my letter. You must have come to see my new garden." The men hugged, and smiled.

"I did in fact, the way you described it, it sounded wonderful. Also, I have brought some guests, whom I thought you would enjoy meeting. This is my good friend, Amandus, and his wife, Cassia." Galahad did not bow when addressed, Aurora bowed her head respectfully, a gentle smile playing across her features.

"Cassia, like the tree, Kezia. What a beautiful name. May I ask what happened to your hand?" He smiled, a little too friendly. He looked at her hand, bandaged in white gauze.

"Yes, like the spice tree, thank you very much. Oh, my hand, I was trying to move my lord's sword, and I hurt my hand." She looked and acted the sophisticated Roman woman. He laughed jovially.

"Just like a women, doesn't know how to use a sword. You, Amandus, why have you not bowed in greeting to me?" Galahad was about to speak, when Aurora cut across him.

"Excuse my rashness, you grace, my husband has not been the same since his youth in the Roman military, his back is stiffened and tense, and his tongue was cut, I must speak for my lord through this afternoon." Galahad and Arthur exchanged alarmed looks, but Alexander did not mind. He laughed politely at her boldness.

"As long as it was for the Roman military, than you may do whatever you like in place of your lord, my girl."

"Now, let us to the gardens, my friend." Arthur waved heartily.

"No, first, to meet my family, they have been anticipating this visit." So the four of them walked inside, Aurora behind all of the men, playing subtle. Alexander's wife and children were waiting in anticipation in the front entrance.

"Artorius, this is my lovely wife, Fulvia, my handsome young man, Caius, and my daughter, Juliana. My son Alexander is with the military, he would have been so delighted to meet you again, Arthur."

Aurora looked at the children, the son, Caius, was around twelve years old, and the daughter, a mere suckling, around three. She latched herself onto Aurora, and would not leave her arms, so that she was forced to walk with this child in her arms, through the terrace, the gardens, and the rest of the home and estate, following politely behind the others.

After a tour through the breathtaking gardens, a light lunch was served. They sat on a blanket, covering a little spot of grass, with Fulvia and her son, Alexander, Arthur, and Galahad and Aurora, Juliana still attached to her. After they had finished lunch, and were having a drink of ale, Aurora sat playing with Juliana, lifting her into the air and hearing her giggle, while her mother sat quietly by, watching the playing. Arthur and Alexander were talking to Caius, and Galahad, because his tongue was cut out, sat watching the happenings around him. Alexander turned to watch Aurora laughing softly with his child.

"She is a sparkling child is she not?" He smiled again, that smile that made her nervous.

"She is truly beautiful." She did not stop her play. After a moment he asked another question.

"Do you like children, Cassia?" He was mesmerized now, watching her.

"I adore them." She paused a moment, and then added for effect, "Amandus and I are expecting one ourselves soon." Galahad snorted up his drink, feeling it fill his lungs and nose, as he cleared his throat wildly, trying to rid himself of it.

"Really? Is this so, Amandus?" He turned to Galahad, who could only smile and nod, then nod again for reassurance of the statement, and held up a hand, fumbling off the blanket, and a little passed some trees into the distance, coughing and spluttering. Aurora appeared a little after him, to make sure that he was alright. He was fine now, just breathing in heavy gasps.

"Are we really-" She cut across him again.

"My dear husband, now that I know you are alright, you must finish your drink, Alexander might think you rude, and wish not to speak with you again after today." She laid a hand on his chest, and leaned in, letting him look into her eyes. He saw, reflected in her bright eyes, someone watching them from behind a tree. He nodded mutely and they continued back to the picnic. Alexander seemed not to care that they had left, and was ready to continue the tour. He wanted to show them his hold where he kept his prisoners. For this, he asked that the women and children relocate to the inside. Aurora insisted that, though it was against her will, she must be with her husband always, in case he might wish to speak, and so, Juliana was pried from her hip, screaming and crying, and brought into the house. Again, she walked behind them, and into the dark rooms of the hold. It smelled of rotting flesh and secrets that needed to be let out into the open. It hit Aurora in the face, refreshing her, reminding her of Britain, which was for now, her home. The guards bowed them passed the entrance, and on the first guard, she noticed a key hanging from his hip, as he bowed to her, she reached out, when he couldn't see and gently lifted the key, knowing that he would not know, it was too loosely tied, he would think he dropped it somewhere, or lent it out and forgotten who he lent it to, she could smell the ale on his breath as he bowed her passed.

They stood in the center of the room, there was a tiny box in the corner, just big enough for a man to sit in. A closed door with a little square window to receive food was the only source of light, and she knew the one person who would be in there. She looked around her at the other prisoners, to make sure. A little boy lay in the corner, ill and malnourished. She hastily made her way over to him.

"Poor boy, why is he prisoner?" She asked, touching his fevered face.

"His parents were pagans, so is he, they all must pay for their sins." His eyes went bitter.

"And his parents?" She asked, picking up his hand.

"Dead. He is the only one left in his family." Aurora picked up his hand, examining the markings upon it, the markings of a Celt, the real reason she was hiding her hand from Alexander, the way he knew Tristan was a Celt. He must have run into a spot of trouble once or twice with one of them and came out the loser.

She moved back into the cluster in the center of the room.

"Well, if he is pagan, then he must pay for his sins, that is the way of God." With that, she moved over to where Tristan was kept, where he was so far, unnoticeable in the dark room.

"Is there anyone in here?" She knelt to look into the tiny window, at kneeling height.

"Yes, be careful, my dear," He turned to Arthur. "That is the savage that I was telling you about, Artorius. He claims to be a knight."

"May I pray for him?" Aurora knelt in front of the window, like she had seen Arthur do in prayer to his god.

"It would do no good, we have all tried, he will not convert, he will not repent, but try if you must." Aurora looked into the tiny dark room. A shadow of a man, hidden in the corner of the room was all she could see.

"Come here, knight. Look into my eyes." Tristan looked up at her, did not immediately recognize who she was, and then moved for the tiny window. He almost looked away, almost let his emotions show, he was so happy to see her, and she looked so beautiful, like their mother, but the mask slid back into place quicker than it had left.

Aurora crossed herself, and Alexander and Arthur did the same, they did not see Galahad who did not, for he was standing behind them. She spoke, her speech coming in Latin, which surprised Arthur and Galahad, who shared another look, which Tristan almost shared with them. Her hands came to rest in front of her chin, brought together in prayer, through the line of her thin hands, Tristan could see something metal, something like, a key.

"Sanctus senior, Savior Popolus, succurro is torva vir, succurro is vir ut paeniteo fio secui vestri grex, reverto ut via vestri filius ago quod coepi eternus vita. Indulgeo terra, permissum torva sto procul vestri vox manus in Regnum Deus. Amen" _Holy Lord, Savior of Nations, help this man, help this man to repent from his evil ways, he must become part of your flock, return to the way your son lived and began eternal life. Forgive the savage, let the savage stand at your right hand in the Kingdom of God. Amen._" She paused, and then began the Lord's Prayer. "Nos precor obvius lacuna vel Savior lens lenti nos. Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen." _We pray in the words our Savior lent us. Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us naught temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen._

The men crossed themselves again when she had finished, Aurora did not.

"I would like to pray for you in your native tongue. What is it that you speak?" She never broke eye contact.

"I am a Celt." He simply stared at her, not quite knowing what she was doing, but he trusted her.

"A Celt, the most savage of them all, more heathen than the Woads, the ones that deserve to rot in the deepest fathoms of hell, where not even sunlight can look upon their hideous marked faces." Tristan almost smiled at the remark, knowing that she was insulting herself as well as him, and the boy in the corner moved nervously in the dark. "Does anyone speak Gaelic?" She looked around the room, at Alexander, then to the guards at the doorway. No one did. "Oh, no one, pity. Well, I know a little, we shall see." She turned back to Tristan. "Give me your hand." He did, and he felt a heavy weight fall into his hand, and with the tiniest of movements, felt the warm metal slide into the lining of the inside of his tunic. He refused to look away from his face. She spoke now to him in Gaelic. "Bow your head, you must be praying. The key that you have is for the lock of your cell. The guards will be too drunk to notice you, I already smell the ale on their breath. I will wait for you in the courtyard. Take the boy with you. He must be saved. Lucan will have a friend now as well. I will send you a sign when it is time. Do not try anything before I signal you, it could mean disaster. Act as you have been before I have given you this information. I will see you tonight, brother. Yes?" She looked up at him.

"Yes." He said. He looked up. Aurora crossed herself. She spoke in English again. "Now, knight, will you convert, turn away for your Pagan sinful ways of living?"

"I will." He bowed his head, almost looking sincerely sorry.

"And you will allow God to punish you for these heinous crimes of adultery, murder and many more for the good of your soul and salvation?"

"Yes."

"May God be with you, knight." He crossed himself and moved back into the shadows as she stood to rejoin Arthur, Galahad and Alexander, who seemed to be stunned.

"If I had not seen it with mine own eyes, I would not have believed it. I would not have believed this." He moved his head from side to side, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"As it took Mary to create our Lord, it has taken the help of another woman to convert one of the most evil men of today." At this, his mouth closed with a snap, he did not like the thought of a woman coming to his aid, but she gave him another sickly sweet and innocent smile, and he melted, not caring if he needed her to make his plea, she was so beautiful, it haunted him.

"How do you know how to speak Gaelic? He asked. It was a good question, that surprised Arthur and Galahad, and they thought they were through, they were going to be caught. Once again, Aurora surprised them.

"When I was a little girl, my father, God rest his soul, used to take me on his travels to Ireland, punishing the Celts and trying to enslave them for their evil deeds, I learnt to speak Gaelic to help him. We went many times a year."

The group of them stepped out into the fresh light of the crisp afternoon, a light snow falling around them, sticking to their hair and eyelashes. Alexander breathed in deep and let it out, a laugh coming up with it.

"Oh, it is so good to have you all with me. You must come to my party tonight. I will not let you refuse me." He spread his arms to them in a welcoming manner.

"We wouldn't dream of it, Alexander." Arthur replied, hugging the man tightly.

"Yes of course, but I am terribly sorry, my husband and I have a few other people to visit before we attend your party, we may be a little late. Is that alright?" Aurora batted her lashes lightly at him, a small twinkle in her eye and a playful smile lying on her lips. He seemed to take a moment to swallow, as if he had forgotten how.

"Why yes, of course as long as you come."

Arthur entered the carriage, after Aurora and Galahad were settled, and the it took off down the drive, Bors and Vanora crouching low on the floor of the caravan. Before they had the chance to ask how it went, Aurora was bombarded with questions.

"Aurora, we aren't really..." Galahad stumbled over his words. As if Alexander was in the carriage with them, she still acted the proper Roman lady.

"No, we are not, I said that to gain respect from him. It worked." She sat straight on the bench, her back against the wall, chin and nose high in the air, hands neatly folded on her lap.

"What were you thinking in there? How could you jeopardize us like that?" Galahad was the questioner again and she answered.

"I simply did what needed to be done." Her tone was one that stopped Galahad from asking any more, and so it was quite, the air was filled with the noise of the horses hoof beats and everyone inside the carriage moved to the steady rock of the trotting pull.

Arthur seemed to have been very quite during the ride, as if he was thinking very deeply about something and would not share it. He spoke up very suddenly.

"You can speak Latin." He looked at Aurora, trying to read her, but it was like trying to talk to his sword, it just wouldn't do any good, and her face was blank, but with a look of blessed innocence about it. She looked into his eyes for a moment before she replied. Arthur felt her gaze as if she were reaching into his inner most thoughts, it sent a shiver down his spine.

"I can." Was all she said, and returned her gaze to the wall in front of her above Bors' head. He was silent for another moment.

"You can understand everything that I pray." Again, she penetrated him with her stare.

"I can." Again, the same simple answer. She did not return her gaze to the wall, but remained looking at Arthur, she let a flicker of knowledge cross her face, showing Arthur that she respected his space, would not tell anyone what he prayed for. Though Arthur understood this, he was not satisfied with the questioning.

"I did you not tell me?"

"You never asked." Her eyes back on the wall. Bors decided he had been patient long enough.

"We certainly missed a lot in there, that is the last time I agree to do this if I get left in the dark. Where did you learn to speak Latin?" He chuckled heavily, his body shaking.

"When one does not speak often, they learn to listen and understand a lot."

"Does Tristan speak Latin?" Arthur asked, almost nervously.

"No, he could not understand what I said when I prayed for him in the cell.

"How could you? His face was just as masked as yours." Arthur shrugged his shoulders, making him seem much more tired and old than he really was.

"He is my brother. I can read him slightly better than everyone else, not a lot, but a little. He did not understand me."

"Can he speak other languages?" Asked Galahad.

"As far as I know, no; but if I know him, he probably can. Or at least understand some of them."

"How did you know that no one in that room spoke Gaelic?" Arthur questioned.

"Only a Celt can speak Gaelic." Arthur was silent again, and Galahad started to say something, but Arthur cut him off.

"What exactly is your plan?" He eyed her suspiciously, not sure if he could trust her.

"Just lend me a horse tonight. That is all I ask." Still, she sat up straight and proper. No matter how many times after that they tried to question her, it was no use, she would not answer, so on the way to the inn, Arthur and Galahad filled in Bors and Vanora on what had occurred in that afternoon and what was to happen that night.


	11. An All Too Familiar Face

1Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda, we all know that I do not own anything to do with King Arthur, no matter how many times I try. I sit back and stay here, typing away at my computer, with not one bit of paraphernalia besides the DVD.

A/N: Okeedokee, this is the next chapter. A lot of things that happen in this chapter, almost made it into the last chapter, but I figured seeing as I was already at 8 pages or so, that I would just make it the next chapter.

THANK YOU TO:

**Lady of the Wood**- for adding me to the All About Tristan C2. You have no idea how badly I wanted to be put into the community. Just the fact that you put my story in there is an honor for me. Thank you again.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon**- for reviewing my story this chapter. I'm glad you liked it.

Chapter 11

Arthur had left hours ago for the party, and Aurora was getting a few things together. Bors and Galahad stood in opposite corners of the room, out of the war path. Aurora was trying to hurry and pack all of her blades into her dress, while Vanora was trying to touch up her hair and make-up. It was finally dark outside, well past midnight and Aurora threw herself down the stairs of the little inn upstairs from the owners that Arthur had rented out for all of them. Galahad followed her, trying to find out what she was doing.

"Aurora, wait. I won't let you go, how will I know that you will be safe?"

"You have to trust me, Galahad. I have many weapons on me, I am a good fighter, I will come back alive." She turned to face him for a moment.

"I want to go with you." He cupped her cheek in his hand.

"You cannot do that. I will be back for you, I promise. After all, we wouldn't dare be too late for dear Alexander's party." She let a smile pass over her, but Galahad did not return it.

"That is another thing. I don't like the way he looks at you.-" He was cut off.

"It is all part of my plan, don't worry." With that, she fled the little inn and jumped onto the borrowed horse, flying through a field to the right of the little house.

As she came nearer Alexander's estate, she slowed the horse into a trot so as not to be heard. When she was there earlier, she noticed a way around the estate to the back where Tristan was being held. She took that route and within five minutes was peering through a wild bush at the door to the small thatch-roofed building. The entrance seemed clear, and she heard much laughing and rowdiness coming from inside. She whistled in that special call for Tristan's hawk and heard the flapping of her wings as she dislodged herself from the barren tree in which she had situated herself to meet her and sit idly on her arm.

"I knew you would be around." She cooed softly and stroked her soft feathers fondly. "You miss him too, don't you, girl?" The hawk made a short, harsh screech. "He's coming back. You know what you have to do. Now go!" With that, the hawk alighted from Aurora's arm and soared through the air above the building. She flew straight in through the door was out of sight. She waited quietly and within five minutes pause, a figure emerged from the illuminated doorway with something thrown over his shoulder and started quickly across the grounds. She drew her hood up and moved out from behind the bush, within a few yards from Tristan.

"Aurora." He said quietly and passed her the small boy in his arms. He was awake, but very weak and cold. Holding the boy safely in one arm, she passed the other to Tristan, who grabbed her wrist as an anchor to pull himself up and securely behind her.

Aurora kicked the horse back into a slow trot until passed the estate as she wrapped her cloak around the small withered figure in her arms. As they turned onto the main road from the estate, Tristan held onto her waist, knowing she would gallop the horse, which she did almost immediately. Tristan's hawk flew dutifully above them, as if, forever, from this day forward, she would never allow her dearest friend to be hurt or captured again, if she could help it.

It was a quiet ride back to the inn, but Aurora knew how grateful her brother was. He was never a man of too many words, or too frequently. As they went quickly up the stairs, Galahad was there at the top to greet them, looking pale and relieved. She pushed passed him hurriedly and gently laid the boy in Vanora's arms. She would take care of him. Bors and Tristan stared at each other, what look was on Bors face, no one could tell, it wasn't angry, but indistinguishable. Tristan, as usual, had a mask as hard as stone in place, though his countenance suggested that he would rather be in another world then have to face Bors again after what he did.

"You two, sort it out." Aurora simply stated as she grabbed Galahad by the hand and dragged him by the hand after her.

They were on the path to the front of Alexander's house, which was completely filled with carriages and horses. It was indeed quite the party. A servant was at the huge doors to let them in and another directed them to the room in which the gathering was being held. Delightful music filled their ears, and the sound of swishing told them that dancing was commencing, along with much chatter. Arthur seemed to be waiting at the entrance to the room for them and looked thoroughly glad that they were still alive.

"Are you alright?" He mumbled under his breath.

"Of course." Smiled Aurora, Roman mask back in place. "We only went visiting. You _are_ strange, aren't you?" She laughed softly. Together, the three mingled with the crowd and talked amongst them, all except for the now mute Galahad that is.

There were many memorable faces for Aurora, some of them, not so good, most of them in fact. She could only hope they did not recognize her. For instance, the Roman guards that had stopped her and her father at the Roman boy's funeral for stealing and killing a man, of whom she stayed clear of.

The orchestra was stopped and Alexander's voice could be heard among the crowd. He stood on a bench along one wall so that everyone could see him and announce that he and a friend would like to make a toast. He pulled this friend up next to him. Aurora's blood ran cold, her eyes lost all traces of gaiety. Her face grew dark and hateful, her breathing quickened, coming heavy in her chest. Arthur sensed a change in her person, chanced a glance in her direction, and was startled to find her looking so positively inhuman, cold-blooded. Her face was no longer beautiful and clear, but savage and ferocious. He gripped her arm, intent on asking her what was the matter.

"Aurora..." He whispered, forgetting to call her Cassia. This caught Galahad's attention and he too turned to look at her.

"What is it?" He whispered and snaked his hand into hers, though she did not squeeze it to reassure him, only fixed her eye upon the man standing beside Alexander.

A/N: Yes, I'm sorry for how late this chapter is in coming, and for how short it is, but I have homework to do, although, I had to write this first, I felt you all waited long enough. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	12. Till Sunrise

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with King Arthur, only the plot line in this story and Aurora, and any other characters that do not appear in the movie, books, or legends.

A/N: Okay, this chapter will be longer. I am procrastinating again, I have about a billion projects due, but I just don't feel like working on them. So, here is your chapter, but first:

**Priestess**- Thank you so much blushes. That was possibly the best review I have ever received. I looked back and I did notice that I am improving, and I'm glad someone else notices as well. Yes, I did leave you on a cliffy, sorry about that, but, you are about to find out what happens. Thanks again, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Chapter 12

Aurora did not break the stare. She could only think of one thing, and it was nothing to do with happiness. She felt as if her heart were being stabbed repeatedly, wishing she could just die, but by powers above, she was not permitted, and must stand to bear this torture, such as Prometheus did. The man glanced her way, and seemed to recognize some feature in her as well.

Arthur and Galahad continued to be concerned for her as everyone clapped and the two men stepped down from the bench and reentered the crowd to mingle. The man made his way over to Aurora, looking into her eyes.

"Might I ask you to dance with me, young lady?" He asked, not bothering to look for permission from Arthur or Galahad, who were both about to say no, but Aurora smiled, though it did not reach her eyes which still appeared to be black as death, and seemed slightly forced. She took his hand, if ever so lightly and let herself be led into the center of the room where she was swept into a slow moving dance. After a few moments of both looking at each other, her with pure hatred, and he, with pure excitement, he broke the personal silence between them.

"I do believe I know you from somewhere." He smirked in remembrance. She remained silent. "Yes. I believe I do." He paused, his eyes glowing with glee. "You were that little girl, your father sold you to me for pleasure. Oh yes, I remember that quite well." He could feel her tiny hand cringe inside his clasped hand. "Ah." He said thoughtfully. "You remember me as well as I remember you." They continued to dance for a moment. "Do you know what it is I remember about you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Your eyes. So dark, angry. As if you have never known the comfort in love in your short number of years." He commented lazily. Aurora took a moment before she spoke to make sure that she could control her voice. It was certainly much harder with this Roman then most.

"Do you know what it is that I remember most about you?" She just now noticed the change in scenery, he had danced her into a deserted hallway. "Everything. That day, the memory of you was burned into the facets of my very being, and, upon my deathbed, I shall still recollect in great detail your hideous face and the monstrous things that you have done to me." She had to stop in order to calm her voice from its shaking resonance, but quickly regained the strength behind it. "Until the day I die, I shall remember your acrid breath upon my skin, the feel of you, everything, and it makes me physically ill to think of."

Galahad searched frantically in one direction while Arthur in the other. They had taken their eyes off the two for a moment to exchange a worried glance and they had disappeared. His head bobbed here and there between the different crowds of people, asking people if they had seen her.

Arthur moved swiftly from one corner of the room to the next, looking desperately through the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of her long brown hair with the bejewelled clip in it. Not a glimpse of her was found, and they were getting nervous, not for her sake, but for the Roman's.

On the other side of the room, Galahad was giving him a look that clearly asked if he had seen anything. He shook his head and the two struggled through the crowd to search the rest of the house for her.

"The thought of me makes you physically sick, does it?" He let go of her hands and circled her slightly, letting his mouth hang open. "Do you know what the thought of you is doing to me right now?" His eyes began to glaze, he breathed in deeply. Aurora prepared herself for what she was sure would be coming within moments. He seemed to change the subject for the moment. "How is your father, anyhow? Still getting money for trading off his children I assume." Aurora's countenance grew still more stony.

"He is dead." She said with deafening calmness. The man laughed, his vividly intense brown hair, spackled with grey at the roots swept delicately over his forehead. His azure eyes filled with a sort of gallant amusement. She watched as his thin lips curved into a wry smile, mocking her with the very essence of memory upon them. "At least I will not have to pay him this time." He walked about the tiny hallway, never taking his eyes off her, knowing that she would not dare to run. "And that bantam boy that I can only assume was your brother, where is he? Dead as well? I suppose."

"Indeed you are wrong, you loathsome creature. My brother he is, alive he is also." He seemed surprised at this.

"Oh! I would have thought he not survive any sort of battle. Such a scrawny thing he was. Although, the look in his eyes, if I had been any other man would have killed me instantaneously where I stood." She said nothing to this, so he continued. "I am positive he has vowed to kill me, but I am sure he is so sickly that he could not muster the strength to do so." Again, she kept quite, letting her anger build up. "Is he here tonight?" She was asked.

"Near by, yes."

"In the manor?" He came close again.

"No." She could now see the whites of his eyes again in the dim light of the lamps.

"Then I shall wait no longer. I believe you are mine tonight. I care not why you dress above your status as a servant and mingle with noblemen. You are mine." He lunged forward, pressing her against the stone wall, his body tight against her, to the point where she was having trouble catching any breath. She could smell him again, everything started to come back to her. She tried to fight it, not let herself get caught in the snares of time, but her resilience faded. She was a child again, being molested by this man, though he was much younger as well, no grey patches. He began to loosen his trousers and pressed himself against the fabric of her dress, between her legs. He was already hard and swollen. She heard her child voice scream through her mind, and suddenly, as if a blindfold had been lifted, she was grown again. Ready with every fiber in her being to slaughter this man in cold blood. Letting her anger course through her, she overthrew the man, so that he was now against the wall. In the bat of his long lashes, an extremely sharp dagger lay across his throat that was not there a split second ago.

"Firstly," She cut off his left ear, knowing that he would not dare scream for fear of showing weakness. "My brother is a Knight Of The Round Table, a knight of King Arthur. He would kill you at a moment's notice if I asked him to." She paused. "Secondly," She castrated him, a small cry of pain escaped his lips as he fell to his knees, the knife back at his throat, pressing harder than before. "I shall not be yours tonight. I shall be no one's." She took the dirk away from him, if only for a moment. "Thirdly," She moved the dagger to his hands, cutting off one finger for every word she spake. "You shall never touch a little girl that way again." Now, no fingers remained intact and the man began to leak tears of pain from his eyes. "In fact, I think they shall be too frightened to look upon you, never mind get any where near you." She pulled his head back by his hair so that he was forced to look straight into her eyes. "And, because you shall be tempted with your sight, you shall lose that as well. So that, if you do happen to survive, which I sorely hope you do, you shall be completely disfigured, and the ugly creature that is the terror inside you, now resembles what you are on the outside. People will know you for what you are." She angled the dagger. "Take a good look at the face of your victim, the one who made you the victim in her wake." She plunged into his sockets and left them hollow and bleeding, sightless. She wiped her dagger on his rich purple tunic and left him there to die, or for someone to discover. To her own amazement, she had not a spot of blood on her, it was all over the walls, but not her. She had never been so clean after brutally torturing someone.

Arthur watched as Aurora emerged from a hallway quite close to him. She looked so dangerous, he was almost afraid to approach her in such a state. Her eyes were like onyx, a cold blue flame ignited in the center. She had an air of anguish about her, though, strangely, a happy and sincere anguish; that was the only way Arthur could describe it, though even in his head, it made no sense. He edged closer to her, though not quite within her range of motion.

"Aurora, is everything alright?" He asked cautiously.

"Of course, Arthur. Why wouldn't it be? The party is fantastic." She moved so close to him that she was right under his chin, looking up at him. She brushed his shoulder as if sweeping dust from it. "It's Cassia." Aurora whispered, barely audible and moved into the party again to find Galahad again.

He saw her, walking towards him, seeming to emanate calm. She had an enchanting and serene look about her that made everyone's heads turn. She took it in stride, smiling and waving. Though he was worried about her, he found himself spellbound and asked her to dance (without speaking of course). The crowd resumed the festivities and everything was normal. Even Arthur who had a bad feeling about that smile, left it be and watched as the couples twirled around the floor, happy smiles on their faces.

The revelry was halted when a scream was heard from the hallway. The men rushed to see who it belonged to and why it screamed. Soon, the cause was brought to light and into the room where the party was held, supported by Arthur, who had gone running at the front of the pack to help, and Alexander. The man Aurora had disfigured was placed on a sofa near the door as women scattered about as far as they could away from him. Alexander was beside himself with fury.\

"Who did this?" He screamed at the men in the room, not even thinking to accuse a woman and the man would not admit that it was a woman who had mutilated him. "Who did this?" He asked his friend now, who was spared a lie when a guard of the household entered the room to report. He was given permission.

"Sir, the Gael has been attacked. All the guards are dead." A hush fell over the room. Alexander's mouth flapped open and closed like a fish for a moment.

"How many prisoners are missing?" He asked urgently, fearing the worst.

"Two, sir. The Celt in the hole and the little boy Celt." An loud silence replaced the hush, for everyone feared the Celts most of all. His suspicions confirmed, Alexander knew what he must do.

"The carriages are to be searched one by one, and everyone is to go home. You cannot stay here, this Celt is dangerous, and who knows what the boy is capable of with a weapon." There was a stir of movement as people made to leave, and within minutes, everyone was on the road to where they came from., there carriages having been thoroughly searched by at least two guards.

Galahad did not say anything until they were far from the manor and Arthur's carriage was beside them.

"What you did to that man was terrible, Aurora." His voice had a shaky tremor that she had never heard before. She breathed deep, seated in front of him atop the horse, folded into his arms and spooned into his chest where it was warm again the chill air.

"I am tired." Was all she replied with, letting a silence fall between them. Though she was indeed tired, she could not sleep, never sleep, in this country, where at every corner was an enemy waiting to kill her.

Aurora sat straight up on the bed, her back resting against the wall, Galahad sitting beside her, not saying anything. Tristan and Bors had forgotten their differences and were asking why they were home so early.

Arthur explained to them what happened as Vanora tended to the boy who was lying on the other cot across from them.

"How could you do that, Aurora? What could have possibly warranted such cruelty. The chivalric thing to do would have been to kill him." He seemed to age about ten years within these few sentences. Aurora looked at Tristan, who knew immediately, could read it in her cool gaze, he only wished he could partake in the torture.

"Trust my reasons, only do not ask of them, Arthur." She seemed exhausted as well. "You did not seem surprised at the announcement of Tristan's release from imprisonment." She commented with a lilt of amusement in her voice and the tiniest of smiles, before it was wiped away. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair and leaned forward in his chair.

"I had figured that was what you were going to do, I just did not know how you would do it. I assume you stormed the Gael and attacked them?" He asked.

"Actually," Intercepted Tristan. "She slipped me the key when you visited me, and I waited for the signal and killed all the men, not that it was difficult, they were so drunk they thought I was imaginary. I took the boy and Aurora rode us home on the horse she borrowed.

All went quite around two hours before sun up, everyone resting as much as they could for their journey home. Vanora slept in the bed with the boy, and the rest were dispersed amongst the room, in chairs, cots, and the floor. When she awoke with the rising of the dawn, the boy had died. His skin cold and pale, his features slackened and at peace. He was given a knight send-off. Aurora watched as the boy drifted down the stream, torches lighting they dried grass and hay around him, a tear falling from her eye.

A/N: I hope the chapter was good, I made it nice and long. I hope you enjoyed it, I put a lot of work into this one. Let me know what you thought.

Krab


	13. Chapter 13

1Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the myths of King Arthur or the movie King Arthur.

AN: Ok, I apologise greatly, this chapter was WAY long in coming and I deserve a good smack on the wrist. I hate to say it, but unfortunately, I have no longer found any inspiration for this story, so I think this will be the last chapter. :'(

**Sachita**- Thanks so much for the review, again, sorry I kept it so long of a wait.

**Priestess of the Myrmidon**- Nope, Aurora really can't win. I hope you enjoy her role in this chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and I hope this one is equally as enjoyable.

Chapter 13

Aurora leaped lightly from her horse, snowflakes falling all around, padding the ground she walked on and sticking heavily to her lashes. She moved swiftly through the temporary camp that was set up, a bow and quiver of arrows set at the ready at her back, her swords dangling imperially at her sides over her plain blue dress and under her brown cloak. She looked around her as she went, eyes scanning everything. She spotted Gawain who was cooking rabbits meat over the fire.

"Arthur?" She asked him and he silently pointed to a trail leading slightly away frm the camp, which she followed, nodding her thanks as she did so. After walking on this trail for a small number of minutes, always on guard, feet silent on the sodden earth, the trail opened onto a small clearing, hardly big enough for more than two or less weary travelers to camp on dry ground. Betwixt two trees that lined the cramped clearing kneeled Arthur, his sword tip plunged into the ground, his head bent as he prayed to his god. He speech was quiet and in Latin.

"Please, let my knights be returned to their homes alive. Let them be free and happy." She stood quietly in a corner, listening to what he had to say, even knowing that she shouldn't. An individual prayer was said for each knight in turn, including, as she noted, herself. So, Arthur considered her one of his knights and companions. She felt a rush of overwhelming gratitude towards the handsome man. "I ask of you, Lord, to keep Aurora safe. She is strong and powerful, and I know she is capable of many things, horrid things that should not even be thought of, and I know that she is not a believer in you, but I ask of you, please, protect her, bless her with your Holy Spirit and guide her through this difficult battle that I know lies ahead and is looming ever closer." He finished his prayers and Aurora cleared her throat and made it look as though she had only just arrived. He turned when he heard her cough. After an exchange of glances where the true knowledge was passed, Aurora stated her purpose needlessly.

"We fight tomorrow morning."

A/N: Okay, so I lied. There will be one more chapter, because well, it's a little stupid really. This is chapter thirteen. It's bad luck. Also, this would be a good place to stop this one. So I'll just continue in the next one. I am soooo sorry for leaving this for so long. My life has for some reason, my life has picked up and I no longer have any amount of time to myself. :'( But I hope you like it.


End file.
